


Living in the Dark

by CKOBBB



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 404 Ben Solo Not Found, Alone In the Dark, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And that includes Rey, Angry Kylo Ren, Angst, Ben Solo is Dead, Dark Reylo, Darkfic, Dominant Kylo Ren, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Bond Shenanigans, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Imprisonment, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren is Captured, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren is very clear about what he wants, Manipulated Rey, Manipulative Kylo, Masturbation, Poe Dameron pwns Kylo in ch1, Protective Kylo Ren, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rey bites back, Rey doesn't join the Resistance, Rey is still on Jakku, Rey shoots Kylo in ch 2, Rough Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Solitary Confinement, Survivor Rey, The Force Ships It, and a whole lot of hormones, stop the madness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-10-04 23:10:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20479010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKOBBB/pseuds/CKOBBB
Summary: “What are you doing?!”Even in the dark he can tell that Rey’s eyes are locked at the junction of his waist, curiosity getting the best of her. The bond is broadcasting her shock aggressively, the connection instantly strengthening in the brief moments since she’s reappeared.“Fuck!” Kylo barks out in irritation, using his clean hand to yank up the waistband to cover himself.“What are you doing?” she asks again, this time more on guard than surprised.“What does it look like I’m doing?”ORRey's on Jakku. Kylo's been captured by the Resistance. He wakes up in a dark room without so much as an explanation, and it's just his luck that a force bond begins to manifest.Please be sure to read the tags - this is a Dark!fic





	1. Days 1 - 8

**Author's Note:**

> There are a million fics where Kylo Ren is put through a trial, only for the Resistance to show him an insane degree of mercy. Leia, Luke, or Rey will swoop in and set Kylo on the road to Bendemption. This is not one of those stories. For a person like Kylo, living alone with one's mistakes is almost certainly worse than a quick death. The Resistance has little pity for the boy once known as Ben Solo, and Leia alone isn't enough to stop the galaxy from dishing out a fitting punishment to its greatest villain. 
> 
> Alternative Universe notes: For this fic, Rey is still on Jakku and has no association with the Resistance. She's still hauling scrap around the desert without any knowledge of the Force. Kylo still is responsible for the death of Han.
> 
> EXPLICIT GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNING - sexual tension so thick you can cut it with a knife, smut, mental torture, cold-hearted manipulation included in this fic. Tags will be updated as I go. Everything is written in good taste - no need to expect mindless suffering that doesn't contribute to the story.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the ride. Updates are *usually* once a week, but shit happens.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo wakes up in a mysterious place. His outlook is rather grim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10/3 - Chapter underwent some final edits! Story is generally the same - a little more detailed and refined now. I'm ESL and I learned to write English in past tense. Found the story to be better suited in present tense. If you see any grammar/spelling issues, let me know. I am always learning new things about this language.

  1. Days 1 - 8

Kylo Ren opens his eyes and is greeted with pure black. A faint white light trickles in from the ceiling, blinding against the contrast of the darkness of his surroundings. He squints his eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the lone source of light.

Where is he?

He walks himself through the most recent events that his mind can recall - a full on assault of the Resistance. The First Order had located the base of operations for the rebellion just over a month ago. It had been easy. Too easy. Kylo and General Hux rarely ever agreed on anything, but the attack had been coordinated as a joint effort, both men surprisingly amicable when planning the destruction of a common enemy. In hindsight that should have set off alarm bells in his head.

Last he could remember, hell had been raining down upon the tiny planet that the Resistance had burrowed itself into. They had chosen a rocky, mountainous planet with hundreds of miles of underground tunnels. The mountains had been carved into, their hollow insides home to a few remaining starships - nothing more than outdated hunks of junk from the Clone Wars. Hux had been giddy about the prospect of finally removing the most prominent thorn in the First Order’s side. Kylo was focused on severing the last remaining ties to Ben Solo.

He has rehearsed the confrontation he would have with his mother thousands of times. It is all planned out to the most minute details. Kylo would strike her down, just as he had done to Han aboard his precious Falcon. From the moment the Falcon went hurling into the ocean of some desolate planet, Han’s life force snuffed out in a matter of seconds, Kylo has been busying planning his next step. His complete transition to the dark side coincided with the removal of Leia.

Hux had wanted to remain aboard the First Order’s flagship, citing that there was no need to directly involve themselves. No need to risk any life or limb in the final confrontation. To Kylo, it is clear that the General felt the Resistance was a target unworthy of risking men on the ground, and that the waning rebel group deserves nothing more than pressing a few buttons. To Hux, it's a matter of sitting back and reclining as flames and explosions engulf the tiny cluster of rebels. Against the General’s advice, Kylo insists on a more direct approach, to ensure that the heartbeat of the rebellion is crippled permanently.

Leia had to die. As the sole person in the world that held onto the memory of the boy who had once been Ben Solo, it is Kylo's prerogative to remove her. He must destroy the remaining slivers of the boy he had once been. Once complete, Snoke would no longer laud his weakness over him. 

It is just his luck that Luke decides _ now _ is the time to end his decades long sabbatical and return to Leia's side like the good brother he is.

He's been numb to emotion for far too long. Perhaps that's why seeing Luke in the flesh had shocked him to his core, effectively paralyzing him where he stood. He remembers now how it felt as the oxygen left his lungs, his uncle’s presence in the Force surging through him. It was as though he had been standing waist deep in the ocean and an unexpected tidal wave had crashed into him. Nothing could have prepared him for the sheer power radiating from Luke’s form. It was blinding, like the explosion of a dying star.

It is almost fitting that some cocky flyboy is the one to subdue him. The pilot courageously - and stupidly - takes advantage of the combination of his limbs locking up and his brain vacating his skull. The man, dressed in a pilot's jumpsuit, is the spitting image of the son Han Solo had always wanted. Of what Kylo could have been. Messy tresses of hair cling to the pilot’s sweaty forehead. The man has a chiseled jaw without so much as a hint of stubble. Most prominently, Kylo recalls the smell of fuel on the man's fighter jacket, the scent bringing him momentarily back to his youth. There is something incredibly annoying about the air of confidence that the pilot has about him. Perhaps it was in the way the man shot his blaster so recklessly? He'd landed a perfect hit onto the hilt of Kylo's lightsaber, an action that sends the weapon flying through the air and a stinging burn into the palm of his hand.

More likely it is the choke hold the man had roughly applied to Kylo's neck, warm muzzle of his blaster pressing against his temple in threatening fashion.

Luke hadn't even lifted a finger. At least not until he reaches his hand out and summons his nephew’s saber, a split second before Kylo can do so himself.

“Don’t move, asshole,” the pilot grits out, strengthening the hold that squeezes Kylo's airways in the crook of his arm. He can all but practically feel the disgust that his Master is surely expressing at the scene.

In a brief instant, Kylo's eyes meet his Uncle's for the first time since laying waste to the legacy of the Jedi. He can feel the foreign intrusion in his mind as Luke carefully paces over to him, studying him like a book. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, his vision becomes black and splotchy, mind giving into the pressure of a single command, spoken from the mouth of his uncle.

_ 'Sleep.' _

The next thing Kylo knew, he had awoken in the dark. Alone. Without so much as a note for explanation. 

A million thoughts run through Kylo’s head as he works to gather his bearings. With wobbly legs he stands, his knees sore from being bent in the same position for so long. Looking for clues as to his whereabouts, Kylo reaches out into the darkness, walking forward until his fingers encounter a wall. He places a hand on the smooth surface, using it to guide himself around the perimeter of the room. The only light comes from the small holes drilled into the ceiling at the center of his prison, their glow is barely strong enough to illuminate the floor directly beneath.

Careful inspection of the walls for any partitions or cracks leads to the conclusion that he's being held in some sort of cell. He quickly discerns that there are no doors present in the structure. In fact, it seems the room has been carved out of pure stone. When he stands at his full length, back straightened and alert, he finds that the ceiling is just inches higher than his head. Curious hands wander over every inch of the ceiling, roaming for any sort of weaknesses.

The only openings seem to be the small, finger sized holes that filter in a light from afar. A small current of air pushes out thought the holes, and Kylo quickly determines that it's likely an oxygen flow being pumped into his new home.

It reminds him of when he was a child and would keep the small creatures he found in a box. He'd wondered why they kept dying, finding out quickly after Han chastised him about not cutting holes in the box. He decides his captors are at least kind enough to not allow him to meet the same fate as those little animals - but then again, they are the Resistance. All manner of plights are theirs to champion. He wonders what would happen if he managed to plug the holes. Would they come to check on him? He's not desperate enough to find out, but he does press an eye to the openings in an attempt to see what is on the other side. Kylo Ren finds only a speck of bright light at the end, so far off and away that if there is anything on the other side, he’d not be able to identify it anyway.

Holding his dominant hand up to the light, Kylo inspects the wound on his hand. It is burnt and blistered on the pads of his fingers, though curiously a small patch has been applied to his palm, held on by a thin roll of cloth. He's not an expert, but he's spent enough time in the tank to recognize the distinct, chemical smell of bacta. Whichever sedative he had been given while his captors transported him is beginning to wear off, he's sure of it. The dull pain from where the pilot had hit him with the blaster's projectile is much greater, even compared to just a few minutes ago.

He studies his wound for a moment in the light, testing out the sensitivity of the nerves on his hand underneath the bacta. More prodding reveals that the medical solution applied to the bandage is still relatively moist. Meaning it couldn’t have been too long since it was administered. The fact that his captors - most likely the Resistance - had even cared to share any medicine with him is puzzling. If anything, it implies that they don't want Kylo to die from infection. It leads him to draw several possible conclusions.

The first (and most likely) is that he is being saved for a mock trial. One that would no doubt find him guilty of atrocities against humanity... and any other creatures that were unfortunate enough to have crossed his path in the last decade or so. He’d be given a sentence -a highly publicized event- that would be designed to humiliate the First Order and boost the rebellion's recruitment numbers. His sentence and guilty verdict is more than likely already determined. Death is the only punishment truly befitting of his crimes. Kylo imagines his life being snuffed out, broadcast to the galaxy in every terminal. At least that's what _ he _ would have done.

It is either that or the Resistance is far more capable of cruelty than he had previously given them credit for. There is a high probability that the rebels wouldn't have any say in his sentence. That the governing bodies of the galaxy would take precedence over his mother and her comrades, and that they would demand nothing less than peeling off his fingernails every few months. Then again, optimal nail growth requires a certain level of nutrition. A point which begs the question as to how and where they expect him to receive food and water. 

He had been quite thorough in his initial study of the empty box. Being unable to see, Kylo had used his hands to rake over every inch of smooth granite surface. His effort is wasted, finding nothing remarkable. In fact, his cell has been been cut so finely that it feels artificial. There is no sign of imperfection or even the distinction of individual grains in the rock. Despite wearing a mask to appear otherwise, Kylo is undoubtedly human. And humans are prone to expire if they did not receive sustenance.

Having a mind suited well to concocting up torture scenarios for his enemies, Kylo allows himself to think deeper about his situation. The darkness is an intentional feature, he concludes first. Perhaps it has further meaning, other than leaving a prisoner vulnerable to bright light exposure? The room is large enough that the very edges are not illuminated. In fact, it's slightly disorienting not being able to see the exact boundaries of his container. If the wall were to open up and slide in a plate of food, there is very little chance he would be able to see it. He wouldn't even know it was there unless the action itself made noise. If there are any openings or panels, they are so fine and cut so close to the grain that his fingers alone aren't sensitive enough to discern them.

Maybe the darkness is a metaphor? He practically scoffs at that notion.

His senses are beginning to adjust to his situation. The absolute silence is deafening. He swears he can hear his own heartbeat, the way it beats against his chest like a fist from the inside. The sedative is definitely leaving his system. Kylo feels his connection to the Force grow, a flutter of familiarity reaching out to him like the way his own bed feels at night.

He closes his eyes and reaches out in the darkness, the world beyond the walls of his cell being bathed in light, sensing and searching for signs of life. He has only felt this sort of isolation once before, within a cave deep below a planet's surface. It is almost as if his prison has been carved into the bedrock. Upon concluding his search for life, he finds nothing. If he is underground, he's beyond the territory of any roots or animals.

Time passes. He is sure of it, despite the lack of clear indication. Maybe the light gets brighter during the day? Several hours of staring up at the holes in the ceiling have garnered no conclusion to his theory. Still, Kylo's eyes haven't left the small rays of light that trickle in, deciding he has nothing better to do with his free time. 

At first he really thinks that someone is going to come for him. In fact, he's dead sure about it. Perhaps that flyboy would take part in the foolish endeavor of extracting useful information? No, he's certain it'll be Luke. Maybe Leia too. He waits hours for any signs of movement, allowing the anticipation to build and envelop his mind. He nearly expects outstretched hands to subdue him in the darkness, for his uncle’s blinding Force signature to explode into radius.

He's left playing the waiting game. He knows they are trying to break him down. Trying to extract information would be a futile effort. It is too risky, too easily could it backfire. They would need to weaken him - no food, no water, a few more days, and he'd be as helpless as an infant.

He feels his own inner turmoil, soaking in the thick, omniscient presence of Snoke. Kylo likes to imagine he'd have no issue with warding off a mental assault from his uncle. Snoke didn't hold Kylo's skills in as high regard; not against the man who was responsible for the defeat of Emperor Palpatine, to which he has made his opinion known on a number of occasions.

It comes as some surprise to Kylo that no one appears, even after what feels like days. There is no flicker of shadows from the small openings in the ceiling. No bugs. No guards stationed outside of the walls, or at least anything sentient. They even fail to provide him with food and water, despite Kylo's routine checks around the room for anything out of place or new. In fact, it is downright negligence that his captors didn't take care to suppress his connection to the Force. 

There is only silence to fill the void of emptiness from within his entombed cell. It is hard to tell how much time has passed. The depraved soul that designed his prison had at least afforded him ample space to move around horizontally, and so Kylo puts the space to work. It does a fairly decent job at keeping him busy during his first few days as a prisoner.

Kylo has a bit of a complex though, so it's not well thought out. It doesn't take long for his mind to draw the conclusion that he needs to keep himself sharp, and the best way to do that involves vigorous activity. In a survival situation it's not exactly ideal to sweat out all of your precious fluids, but that train of thought has yet to cross through Kylo's mind. He performs a series of exercises every few (perceived) hours. It helps him keep track of the time that has passed, simulating a portion of his rigorous training regime. Because it'll _ keep him in fighting condition. _His hours go by faster by the aid of push-ups and sit-ups, coupled with walking laps around the dark room.

Still, he is left alone. In the brief opportunities that he actually considers the possibility of his capture, abandonment had not crossed his mind. It isn't like Kylo's expecting Leia to welcome him with open arms, and he definitely isn't expecting her to defend his atrocities to the entire galaxy. But... a part of him held out hope that she'd at least have something to say to him. Even if she's lost all love for him, he anticipates that she'll not be able to resist looking the man who killed her husband in the eye. He knows she's desperate for a glimpse of her son after so many long years apart, because a part of him also wants to see her.

But Leia never comes, and for Kylo it's just more of the same. Her distant parenting methods always were infuriating to him, and it seems time has done nothing to change their dynamic.

It's not that he doesn't deserve to be locked up immediately and without question. He's ended enough innocent lives to warrant a death sentence a hundred times over. But solitary confinement without food or water? That is the sort of punishment he would have come up with on a rainy day. 

During his isolation Kylo finds himself somewhat grateful that Snoke had forced him to undergo similar conditions during his training. Kylo has techniques at his disposal to slow his body processes down, lowering the rate of his heartbeat and causing his rate of breathing to dip sharply. Those on the light side of the Force harness the technique through deep, calming meditation - something which Kylo is awful at. Instead, he uses the Darksider method of drawing strength from pain.

It's at this point that he's stopped his exercises; such activities only expedite the event of his death. He resigns himself to the reality that sitting and remaining as still as possible is the most efficient route to survival. The only question is how long he's capable of surviving off of the siphoning of raw energy in order to keep all systems functional.

By what seems to be the third day - though it is entirely possible that only mere hours have passed - Kylo begins hallucinating. He doesn't know if it is an effect of the solitude or his mind giving in before his body. Perhaps the nature of his tomb acted as a sensory deprivation chamber? Still, even that does not explain the visions playing out before his eyes.

It is a multitude of strange experiences. Perhaps most prominently, he feels the sensation of sand filtering between his toes. Kylo rationalizes it as sitting in one position too long. Possibly the blood flow in his legs being disturbed. Even after adjusting them, he can swear he feels fine grains underneath his feet. Questioning his own reality, he sweeps his hand on the cool surface of the floor, only to reveal it to be impossibly smooth.

Among his other symptoms, he experiences an abnormal amount of sweat pouring from his brow. It causes the polyester of his shirt to cling against his chest and shoulders, as though he had recently been engaging in cardio. It is a strange anomaly, given that his cell is cold enough for him to be shivering. Logical reasoning suggests that perhaps he is running a fever. Maybe the parts of his hand that weren’t treated with bacta were becoming infected? In the dim light it is difficult to tell.

There is always the chance that the planet playing host to his prison is also the home of a strain of super bacteria. He can't recall the last time he was sick. It has to be at least twenty years ago, back when others still knew him as Ben Solo. Memories of Han and Leia shipping him off to Luke's academy for aspiring Jedi flood his vision. It's not a time he's fond of. His uncle had chosen a remote and undeveloped planet with the only life being a small variety of reptilian herbivores. He had spent a day hunting one of the creatures in in order to get around Luke's no meat policy. Kylo had been quite proud of himself until he fell ill, Luke informing him that he had chosen the planet because all wildlife was toxic to consume. Hence the lack of carnivorous creatures.

He has plenty of time to think about his current situation. It's very nearly too much time, resulting in Kylo constantly second guessing himself. Two sides of the situation take residence in his mind, fighting against each other for dominance inside his brain. Logic against his imagination. It makes more sense that a fever is the cause behind his ailments, but with so much time at hand, Kylo's mind is prone to wandering. Perhaps it is because he has too much time to devote to the thought that he begins to doubt himself. A nagging part of him rationalizes that he isn't showing any other symptoms, that the ache in his belly is due to hunger, not nausea.

His hand is stiff and scabbed over. He often forgets to move it for hours, and when he finally does stretch it - if only so it heals properly - it stings like hell.

As more time passes, the tricks Kylo’s mind begins to play grow more and more elaborate. He begins to hear a soft, sweet voice whispering to him on occasion. Well, perhaps not _ to _ him. It's more like whispers in the wind, as though the presence of someone is creeping closer. Mostly he hears the unmistakable sound of humming, or light and shallow breaths that aren't his own. Rarely can he ever make out actual words. He considers that perhaps Snoke is trying to teach him some sort of lesson for getting himself captured, but these sounds are soothing. It is nothing like the booming presence of Snoke invading his mind. There isn't a reality in existence that includes his Master sending him such a calming sound. It is in large part a reason why he deigns not to reach out in the force for Snoke. The other reason being his own disgust for his personal weakness.

Over time, everything Kylo experiences within his hallucinations becomes amplified. When he lies down he swears he feels the warmth of the sun on his cheeks and the wind upon his face. Sometimes when he closes his eyes, his vision is flooded with a bright flame of light. When he opens his eyes, the reality in front of him remains a stark contrast, nothing but darkness covering the room. It's almost surreal, closing one's eyes and seeing more light than when they are open.

The one thing he continues to experience, no matter how deep he dives into meditation, is hunger. In the beginning Kylo figures that he can stave off the sensation of pain for at least ten days. During his training he had lasted an impressive two weeks before feeling the full brunt of the pangs within his abdomen. This time he lasts just five days before a crippling hunger fills his body. It's an ache that strangely fluctuates in intensity. The sensation is foreign to him, having rarely, if ever, wanted for food during his time as Snoke's apprentice.

Still, Kylo's body holds onto life, and it soon feels like he's dangling off the edge of a cliff. His lips become chapped; he knows this to be the first sign that his body is on the verge of dehydration. The sweat that had once dripped from his brow has now disappeared, his body no longer having the fluids to spare. His dry eyes ache in their sockets. In reality it's only his seventh day.

Beyond the pain, beyond the hopelessness, the worst part of the situation is that he continues to have so much time to think. Too weak to filter his own thoughts, he allows his reflections to go untethered and run amok. He thinks about a lot of things. About his impending doom. About how he's going dry out like a husk. Worst of all, he thinks about his life choices.

A Sith does not regret his actions, no matter how awful they are. For most of his life Kylo did not not allow himself to think of how he would have done things differently, but in his current state he can't help himself. He dances around the idea of small, inconsequential what-ifs. After all, it isn't like he has anything better to do. With all the hours in the day at his disposal, he is bound to dabble with forbidden thoughts.

For every moment that he is sure he will break, certain he's moments away from passing out, the voice in his head returns to him. Perhaps it is his dying soul reaching out to the other side? He seriously considers the possibility that the Resistance is trying to fuck with him by playing a recording. Perhaps it is some sort of mental warfare that's designed to drive him to the brink of insanity? That's what it has to be, because he severely lacks any other explanation.

He finds himself hunched against the granite that lines his cell, leaning his sore back against the expanse of the wall for hours at a time. He becomes consumed with the sounds in his head, living moment to moment in waiting. His life is filled with a small degree of purpose in his waiting game. He yearns for the next sigh, for the next time he'll hear the voice hum a strange little song. His life begins to revolve around this unexplained stimuli. Each time he finds himself drifting off into the abyss he is jolted awake, yanked inches closer to the source of the noises. It is in these precious moments where he is reminded that he's still alive, still wasting away. Kylo quickly finds himself reveling in any sensation that is not unrelenting pain. He finds it ridiculous how quickly he's come undone, how his mad delusions both drain so much out of him and act as a source of strength.

It is on the eighth day that he feels the pressure of his mind give way, the dam that is his defenses begins to buckle from the overwhelming pressure. It's when it finally breaks that he becomes aware that he's no longer alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whole lotta Reylo in the next chapter... and every chapter after that :)


	2. Day 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Kylo realizes he is not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for non-con added. Nothing explicitly qualifying as a rape in this chapter, but Kylo implies it. No lizards were harmed in the making of this chapter.
> 
> fyi Kylo is supposed to be an awful person here. He's supposed to be deserving of his punishment. He views himself as despicable, so therefore his actions reflect it.
> 
> 10/3 - chapter touched up and refined

By the time Kylo is thirteen he is already a monster.

There's a memory that's always stuck with him, that he's always come back to when thinking about the beginning of the end of his youth. 

It had been several years into his adolescence, and nearly twelve months since he was first shipped off to Luke's academy. His father had not taken the effort to visit even once since arriving on planet. The tiny group of pupils on the planet were relatively well established at this point; the archaic huts that once acted as the planet's only man-made source of shelter having been replaced with slightly less cramped buildings, made from stone and wood. Each student on Ires (the name of the planet) had been required to share a small structure with three other padawans of the same gender. The change in environment is overwhelming for a young Ben Solo, who has never cared for the company of others. A year in and his experiences within the academy have made no ground in the effort of changing his opinion.

As the son of Leia Organa, he has been raised on a steady diet of lavish rooms and empty hours alone. Leia had reached celebrity status on a handful of planets, so her diplomatic sway, coupled with her association with Luke had resulted in the Skywalker siblings becoming quite famous. Within this fame, Ben becaoes quite spoiled - wanting for nothing. Nothing but his mother's love, which just so happens to be stretched thin between a life of politics and maternal instinct. It all stops the moment he first taps into the Force.

He practically hears Luke's voice hammer his teachings into in his head, ' _ Possessions and frivolities are not part of the Jedi way.' _

Within the settlement, the cozy stone huts are nestled at the edge of the forest, encircling a large clearing where grass is worn down to dirt. Each day they gather in the center, rain or shine. All students are to eat their meals together, partake in meditation as a group, and the more advanced students are given the chance to hone their skills and spar together. There are no exceptions. The latter activity actually holds some appeal to a young Ben Solo, but any enthusiasm is quickly replaced with disappointment upon learning that Luke has no intention of allowing them to use real sabers. Instead, the training ends up devolving into pointlessly battering each other with sticks. Ben has a natural talent for that sort of thing, but the other students lack his same intensity and provide very little challenge.

Surrounding the camp, towering tropical trees create a dense canopy that plays home to a variety of colorful lizards. Although the wildlife otherwise lacked diversity, these particular creatures were found everywhere. Their skin is too thin and fragile to make any use of, and their meat is rancid, so there's no point in hunting them. Not that Luke would have supported such an idea. Under blankets, inside bags, and even on the walls and ceiling, the various species of lizards are the equivalent of a common pest. All food has to be guarded attentively. The creatures are so fearless that they often steal table scraps whenever possible. More than likely this contributes to the immense population boom over Ben's stay on Ires.

He remembers it clearly, as if it had been only yesterday. Unlike most of his childhood, he can recall the day in distinct detail; the way the sun was shining, the color of the leaves on the trees, even the level of stubble that Luke had accumulated on his cheeks. Of all the memories he has as Luke's pupil, he isn't sure why his mind keeps returning to this one. Maybe it's a turning point? The moment both he and Luke knew something was  _ very _ wrong with him.

Humble greens await the padawans each sunrise, and it's no different in this particular morning. Per the usual, his breakfast is set in clear space at the center of the huts, a bowl among bowls - each belonging to a different student. Ben strongly disagrees with the dietary restrictions that Luke sets for his academy. From the moment he arrives on planet, he makes his opinion known. After a full year his view of the meals has yet to budge. Still, he is a growing boy with towering height and gangly limbs to fill out. He eats whatever he can get his hands on. 

He oversleeps on this particular morning. The others have already gathered by the time he manages to drag himself off his sleeping mat and out of his hut. He remembers clearly the way his empty bowl sat alone in the dirt. There is no doubt in his mind that the little reptiles have scurried off with its contents, seizing the opportunity for easy food in no less than fifteen seconds.

_ 'Motivation to wake up on time _ ,' Luke had called it.

At the very sight, Ben's beat red with embarrassment, a rosy color rising to the tips of his ears. Not only that, but he is understandably outraged at Luke for filling the bowl when it was clear he isn't around to take it. The other students - his  _ family _ (Luke had repeatedly been trying to draw the group closer by using such a term) haven't even bothered to help shoo away the vermin. He remembers how pissed he was in that moment, but of course, Ben remains silent. In his mind he recalls visualizing how it would feel to let loose- to finally take out his frustrations on his fellow padawans and uncle, but such fantasies are out of the question. Even verbal arguments are frowned upon by Luke, and Luke's word is practically gospel among the other students. In the end, Ben channels his homicidal fury into the lizards, who have no voice to protest him.

Even in his present haze he can recall the next events that had taken place. He remembers grabbing his fork and excusing himself from the group, boots stomping on the forest floor. He'd been deliberate in waiting until he was out of earshot and eyesight before letting off some steam. In his hand he takes the utensil and turns to the moss covered trunks of the trees, where small groups of lizards gather in bunches. Without any further thought, Ben begins to skewer the little monsters.

In this moment Ben is young and vulnerable, always mad about something but never quite knowing why. Most of the padawans on Ires are able to simmer their anger under the careful tutelage of Luke, but Ben is not like the other children in this respect. Instead, he enjoys his little game, running his fork through every little pest within arm's reach.

He would prove to regret his actions, for they ruined his fork with their toxins... but boy did it feel good to stab something. It was definitely worth the punishment of eating with his hands for a week.

The familiar sound of Luke clearing his throat tears him from his game, causing Ben's limbs to freeze. Not out of fear of punishment, but out of realization that what he is doing is  _ wrong _ . He distinctly remembers the feeling that crept down his spine a split second before his uncle had chosen to reveal himself; the apparent realization that he is no longer alone.

It is this very feeling that Kylo Ren is hit with during his eighth day of captivity. It's a feeling that causes him to open his eyes and journey back out from within himself. 

The light in the middle of the room seems brighter, but it's probably because he hasn't opened his eyes in days. It's almost blinding in its intensity, and it takes a moment for his vision to adjust, and for his mind to clear the foggy haze he is presently engulfed in. He sits upright from his position against the wall, an ache in his neck bothering him as he peers forward to get a better view of his surroundings. It's unmistakable: the shape of a silhouette taking form near the boundaries of the cell's illumination. 

Almost instantly Kylo shoots into action, and it's as though he has been waiting for this moment his entire life. His knees ache in protest as he stands, giving way momentarily and causing him to stumble to one side. Catching himself, he places a steadying palm against the wall to regain some balance. Kylo cannot help but to swallow, an action he instantly regrets after feeling the dry film coating the back of his throat.

He is Kylo Ren though. He doesn't let his captors know how broken he already is. Instead, he acts fearlessly and moves closer to the light in order to get a better look at his guest.

It is a person. More specifically (and surprisingly), it's a woman. Though her features are quite youthful, so perhaps girl was a more appropriate label? He can't see much in the darkness, but with his eyes he is able to trace the faint outline of three distinct buns that she has pulled her hair into. Even through the eerie light that filters through the ceiling, he can see that its color contrasts darkly against light and tanned skin. She's relatively short. Even hunching over against the wall for support, he's taller than her by a good deal. He notices the way she's dressed in a crude beige rag, hints of sun bleached color discernible underneath the holes that shine above her.

He doesn't recognize this girl, and based on her lack of distinct fear, it doesn't seem she knows who she's come to visit. That, or someone is seriously underestimating the time it would take to weaken him. The entire situation is odd and confusing to Kylo, especially considering that the Resistance has to be utterly mad to send in someone who doesn’t know the full extent of his atrocities. Or - even in his current state - how easily he can end her life with a flick of his wrist. A door into the darker part of his mind swings open, and Kylo's left wondering if his captors realize the things he is capable of doing to the fairer sex. The whole situation is akin meat being dangled in front of a starving predator. 

Among racing thoughts, a few theories fly through his mind. Perhaps this is a way of flaunting how weak he is? Perhaps it is a form of humiliation, demoralizing him with someone as harmless looking at the girl before him? There has to be a catch - something he can't see. He remains cautious, firmly in the safety of the darkness that borders the perimeter of the room.

"Who are you?" He can see her squint to try to get a better look at him. A shiver runs down Kylo's spine as he tries to pinpoint where he's heard her voice before.

It takes only moments for him make the connection between his hallucinations and the notable accent the girl is speaking with. It belongs to her,  _ the _ voice - the one that wouldn't stop entering his ears during the earlier hours of his captivity. He's held onto every word, every inhale and exhale that it has produced. And now he knows the source. The revelation gives him a surge of new life.

He tries his best to focus on her words, and not on the way his heart is relentlessly pounding in his ears. Her question is a strange one, given that he's in an inescapable prison that had been designed specifically to contain him.

She asks again, and Kylo can see the way her shoulders tense in a defensive posture. Although her tone now wavers in his presence, hearing it for a second time only acts as confirmation. In the dim light he sees the girl's hands hovering at her sides, eyes and chin shifting off to his right, as though there's something very interesting hidden within the darkness. He decides to amuse her, if only to find out more information about his whereabouts. Then again, he's Kylo Ren - and he's not about to submit to a line a questioning without getting something in return.

"You know who I am."

His voice is dry and every syllable scratches against the back of his throat. The acidity lacing his tone makes it clear he's in no mood for games. If the Resistance is hoping to use her to access a more human side of Kylo Ren, then they are going to be incredibly disappointed by the results.

"I don't," she replies, and to some surprise it seems she's just as equally unamused as he is. From the moment he had determined her gender, he'd been admittedly expecting a softer and gentler tone. For his captors to try and go all in with the empathy strategy and kill him with kindness. Instead, the apprehension she's showing has anything but a calming and trusting effect.

"I'm not going to ask again. Who are you?" She's not satisfied with his lack of reply.

It doesn't take much to annoy Kylo, but playing games is a surefire route to piss him off. He already teeters on the brink of annoyance and she hasn't even uttered fifteen words. Stubbornly, Kylo declines to answer her ridiculous question. Instead he seizes all his energy and pushes off the wall, intent on closing some of the distance between them. Despite the protests of his spine, rises to his full and intimidating stature, his back forced straight and tall.

"I'd think they would know better than to send a little thing like you here. You're alone and I'm not exactly the sort of person who has much to lose."

He stands in front of the girl now, expression glowering down upon her as he puts some effort into crowding her personal space. From this distance he is able to see the defining, plain features of her face as they appear underneath the light's faint glow. She is relatively attractive, but then again, after over a week of total darkness, Kylo is so starving for interaction that he doesn't doubt he could've gotten  _ it _ up for a bantha.

He's just inches away from her now. His body is stuck somewhere between alert and aroused, and the way she looks up at him with defiant eyes isn't helping his situation.

"You're either very stupid or very brave."

But then again, that's how they always were in the Resistance.

She does not waver underneath his stare, "I'm not the stupid one."

From somewhere - he isn't sure where or how - the girl steps back and produces a blaster. Its appearance visibly startles him, and Kylo kicks himself mentally for not noticing it sooner. The brunette holds the weapon high between them, the sights trained on him, directly at center-mass. It's rare that he encounters someone with the gall to raise a weapon at him. In any other circumstances he would have already summoned the force and snapped her neck without a second thought.

_ But this is a special occasion, _ he thinks to himself; he hasn't seen another soul since he was captured, and that might as well have been an eternity ago. He needed to play this carefully.

"Answer the question."

"You're not going to quit with the charade, are you?"

She does not answer, and instead cocks her head to the side and visibly swallows a lump in her throat. Her small lips press together in determination. He's tempted to put them to work around his dick, but first he needs some answers.

It then occurs to Kylo that she may be testing him. To see if he'll call himself Ben Solo. It's a fruitless effort, as the boy the Resistance sought was long dead. He'd sooner expire than open that door again.

"I'm Kylo Ren."

He says it definitively, the tone of his voice lacking leaving room for further interpretation. A small part of him is genuinely curious where this line of questioning is going to go, so he makes a concerted effort to smother any flames of anger in his mind. 

In the dim light of the cell he can see the way her nose scrunches at his words, brows knitting in perplexity. Kylo can practically see the gears in the girl’s head move in response to the information he's afforded her.

"Who sent you?"

An odd question. "What?" 

"Are you hard of hearing?"

At this point he's wondering if he should begin to believe her when she told him that she didn't know who he was. In all his time spent as a conduit for the darkside, only the borderline suicidal have had the guts to speak to him with such disrespect.

"No one sent me. I don't answer to anyone."

It's technically not true. He does answer to Snoke, but the foul creature hadn't explicitly ordered the attack on the Resistance. Responsibility for the attack belongs to him, as he's chasing his own personal vendetta. His pet project, if you will.

She seems skeptical about his statement, but does not push him further.  _ Probably smart. _

"What do you want?"

The question is simple, yet it makes little sense in the context given. His goals are well known. He's made no effort to hide them from the galaxy. He wants to kill Leia. Squash the Resistance. Assume complete power of the darkside. Any of those were adequate answers to her inquiry. He's stuck wondering why she's bothering him with such stupid questions, very nearly voicing his thoughts. Instead, Kylo clams up and chooses to be stubborn by avoiding answering altogether. He decides he needs to shift the conversation back in his favor. He needs to assume control.

"Never killed someone before, have you?"

His eyes lock onto where her hands hold the weapon, shaking as they clutch the blaster. He gives her some credit for the disciplined finger refusing to touch the trigger, but chalks the behavior up to fear rather than experience. Kylo can't help as a small, dry smirk takes washes over his features. Just one sentence and he's flipped the tables on her.

"I'm not against trying new things," the woman grits her words out.

"It's not so bad," he rationalizes, pointing his fingers in the shape of a gun and emphasizing a shooting motion, "Just one shot and all your problems disappear."

He wonders if the Resistance had not considered that he would prefer being shot over spending another moment in cell hell?

"You talk like it's the only solution."

Kylo shrugs, "No one has come back from the dead to haunt me yet. Though I can't say I'm looking forward to meeting them all in the afterlife - if there is one."

Her blaster is still raised between them threateningly, eyes raking over his form. She's finally taking in his size, as if he hadn't been encroaching into her space for the last five minutes. Nervously, he watches as she reaches with one hand to grip a small flask tied at her hip. Her small, deft fingers find the ties, sacrificing a small amount of effort to pull and loosen them before finally yanking the flask free with the same hand. She extends the object to him in her palm in an offering of sorts.

"If you promise not to harm me, I'll give you water."

He wants to laugh, but his throat is far too dry, "What's stopping me from just taking it from you regardless?"

She cocks the weapon in her hand, an answer made clear in the form of actions rather than words.

"Alright," he concedes, her point having been made, "Let me ask in different words: what's preventing me from lying?"

The girl before him seems to struggle to find an answer. It is clear she's one of  _ those _ people. The sort who believe in good and evil, and that people are only as good as the promises they keep. She's practically brimming with hope, and for some reason that alone reminds him of his mother. He pushes that thought away in a hurry; thoughts of Leia are an instant mood killer - and Kylo's body would rather keep the good feelings rolling. Somewhere down the line he's decided that he's determined to ride out his hormones. They're masking his pain brilliantly, acting as a source of relief from all of his other organ systems failing. 

The girl's answer surprises him, if only a little bit, "Nothing."

"So there's really no reason for me to tell the truth, is there?"

"Judging by your hand, you've been stupid enough to already have someone shoot you with a blaster. I'd wager you're the sort who doesn't make the same mistake twice. Not when you've got only one good hand."

She shoots him a polarizing look, and Kylo soaks in the intensity of her gaze. He feels a rush of blood go straight to his dick as a side effect. If he's being honest, he's actually slightly impressed that she can see anything in this lighting, let alone his injury. But then again, his captors already knew about it when they provided him with a patch of bacta. She'd be privy to such knowledge.

"What's the point of having two good hands when I'm going to die regardless?" For a split second Kylo pictures a very specific activity he could achieve with the use of a single hand.

"We're all going to die eventually. Some people just fight harder to stave off the inevitable."

"Are you implying I've given up?" It's a question only. He's not really fighting her on this point. A blast to the gut sounded like heaven in comparison to a few more days of starvation.

"Going through with attacking me would result in your death, so in that case - yes," there's a pause before she continues, "But as you stand, no. I don't think you really want to die."

The way she's looking at him, he's certain she can see the way his lips press into a thin line, expression indiscernible. "No - you're right, I don't care. You should shoot me."

"I don't believe you." She calls his bluff.

He bites back quickly, "You don't have to."

But of course she rationalizes her thoughts into words with an intensity that Kylo is unable to meet. This clash of wills is taking a lot out of him, despite being no more than a heated conversation.

"Even on your last legs you clearly care enough to make an intimidating impression. That, and if you were really suicidal, you'd have rushed me and forced my hand," the girl extends her hand once again, delicate fingers clasping the flask, "My offer still stands. Do we have a deal?"

"I don't make promises I don't intend to keep."

He  _ really _ should just nod and take it. It's what he wants to do. With the offering of something as precious as water on the table, it's in his best interest to keep his mouth shut. Even just a sip sounds fucking incredible. In his mind Kylo makes note to grab the flask - after he inevitably tires of this conversation and kills her, of course.

"Your loss. Based on the sound of your voice and the way your skin is cracking, you don't have more than a few days left."

She isn't wrong. Kylo feels like shit. Like his insides are burning on their last fumes. Based on the way she's talking, it's not hard to come to the conclusion that this girl seems familiar with the symptoms of death.

"So why don't you shoot me? Call it mercy."

It's an honest question. One that he has been aching to voice since the very moment she produced that blaster. Though if anyone in the galaxy is unworthy of a degree of mercy, it's him.

She gives Kylo an incredulous look, "You'd seriously rather me shoot you than take my water?"

He looks down at her with dry, dead eyes, lingering for a moment too long on the exposed skin of her collarbone. He doesn't bother to put in the effort to hide his fixation.

"I'd rather not lie and say I'm not considering taking advantage of the moment."

"Implying?"

He gives a raspy, empty laugh that feels like sandpaper in his windpipe, "Like you said, I have only a limited amount of time left before I die. I can think of a few things I’d like to fill those last moments with."

Then something hit him hard in the abdomen. Kylo spends a split second in shock, hands clutching fiercely at the impact upon his stomach. It takes a moment for him to realize that she has not fired the blaster, but instead opted to throw the small flask at him. This girl is beyond confusing. Just when he feels like he's gaining the upper hand, she pulls the rug out from underneath him and shows him kindness. He tries not to think about it too hard.

Instead, almost greedily, Kylo weighs the contents in his palm like it's a precious stone and he's giving her an appraisal. The small tin object is nearly full, although the amount it holds is a pittance in the palm his enormous hands. Still, Kylo has never been the type to refuse something he has a clear need for.

He unscrews the cap with shaking fingers, his hand tilting the bottle to his mouth and allowing its contents to pour out recklessly. The water tastes better - feels better - than anything he's ever experienced. He revels in the feeling of liquid flowing down his throat, hydrating his dried out tongue and running down the edges of his lips. It drips onto his dark polyester shirt and cools the skin underneath. It's a pity that it only takes two sips before he finds the bottom, having emptied the flask completely of its contents.

He meets the girl's gaze as he wipes his chin, taking a moment to enjoy breathing without feeling like his lungs are on fire. He throws the flask back to her and she catches it with little effort. Judging by her expression, she doesn't seem amused. In fact, she's looking at him like he had just killed her puppy. He quirks his brow at her, his expectation made clear that she explain the look on her face. Thankfully she seems to finally be on the same wavelength as he is, providing him with a proper answer.

"If I knew half of it would have ended up on the floor, I wouldn't have offered it."

"You gave water to dying man. Did you expect me to only take a sip?”

The blaster is no longer raised in the air, but she still keeps it aimed it in his direction. Her stance is less alert than before, as if her offering had been a deterrent from danger. It's not.

"Maybe I thought you’d know better than to waste it.”

“I’m sure you can get more,” he replies dryly.

“Guess again.”

An awkward silence fills the void between them, and Kylo can swear he feels irritation radiating off of her in waves. Not that he really cares.

“Looking for an apology?”

She shakes her head, “We both know you aren’t going to give me one.”

“You’re catching on,” he mutters, not meaning it as a compliment, but more so an observation.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here now?”

“Is it not obvious?"

“It’s really not.”

“Do you want some sort of confession?”

He can see the confusion mask her face in reaction to his words. He continues on without waiting for an answer.

“Let’s see, I’ve committed an endless list of atrocities, have an utter disregard for any creature unlucky enough to cross my path, and - my favorite - I killed Han.”

Her retort is brimming with sarcasm, "Wow, have no idea why anyone would want to shoot you."

"It keeps me up at night," he admits dryly.

"And I don't really care who you've killed, so long as I'm not next."

"I'm a real sicko, but dead bodies don't really do anything for me." Even when he was a child, his mother had told him not to play with his food. Old habits die hard.

Despite his cruel and crass attempt at humor, the girl doesn't recoil in fear or disgust. She stands her ground, face stony and devoid of amusement. "Don't even think about touching me."

_ Too late, _ he thinks to himself smugly.

As if rising to the occasion, Kylo suddenly surges forward, allowing the muzzle of the blaster to press into his mid region. He crowds close to her as he had done once before, his body now only inches away from her own. He desperately wants to fuck this bold and cocky attitude out of this girl. The power trip he feels only emboldens him further, feeding into the high he's experiencing from her now palpable fear.

"You don't have the guts to shoot me," he taunts. It's his turn to call her bluff.

"Get back!"

He can see the panic in her eyes as she steps back, trying to create distance between them. As a direct result, Kylo follows her step for step, backing the girl into the direction of the wall.

"Shoot me!" he commands, "Imagine it: Kylo Ren, killed by a little girl. Is that it? Are they recording this? It would make excellent propaganda."

Her hands are shaking as she clutches the weapon with both hands now. The blaster does nothing to deter him. In fact, her fear only fuels him, spurning him to continue to escalate his aggression.

Kylo takes a step toward her, a hand about to stretch forward and summon the weight of the force around her windpipe. He intends to subdue her without any effort. He wants to horrify his captors with the sort of depraved shit he could muster upon their little stunt. He wants to make them regret ever sending her into the belly of the beast.

He doesn't get a chance though. This time she really does fire the blaster.

  
  
  



	3. Day 8.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blaster goes off, and Kylo and Rey deal with the aftermath of their first interaction. A plan is formed, and the real story begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So FYI, italicized quotes mean the discussion is taking place over the Force Bond. Kylo speaks through his thoughts, in his mind. Rey (in this chapter) speaks out loud, but her voice is still sent through the bond to Kylo. This will be shown with conversation in quotation marks+italicized. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy the chapter. The plot takes form.
> 
> 10/3 - refined this chapter!

Day 8.2

The echo of the blaster erupts throughout the cell, the flare of the bolt momentarily blinding both occupants. Kylo prepares for the surge of pain to his gut, clenching inwardly and taking a sharp inhale as he steels himself for what is to come. 

It isn’t like pain is foreign to him. Snoke may be his mentor, but his favorite lesson was to channel pure, unfiltered pain into all the nooks and crannies in Kylo's mind. Every inch, from his toes to the tips of his ears, would be filled with a burning sensation, as though he was being pierced by a thousand needles. He's learned it's best to allow his body to go rigid, any sort of movement only amplifying the experience tenfold. The first time he undergoes such a treatment, he's certain his organs are being ripped apart, twisting and pulling in all directions at once. Over the next dozen lessons he grows to understand that the pain is all mental.

_ 'Mind over matter' _ , as Snoke would say.

Snoke;s goal is to urge him to use the pain to his advantage, but stringing together a coherent thought is impossible when your body is being consumed by invisible fire from the inside out. It's as though a foreign, intrusive entity takes up residence in his bones, co-mingling with the blood in his veins and burning like acid. It's impossible to harness, impossible to grapple hold of and reign the beast in, but Kylo tries anyway.

The burn to his hand had been like a soft kiss in comparison. It's just a minor intrusion upon the first layer of his body’s defenses, akin to sticking one’s hand in a vat of freezing water. He’s aware he's only narrowly avoided getting his entire hand blasted off, the projectile hitting the pommel of his saber, causing the metal to heat up and brand his palm with the impression of his weapon. The bite had been sudden, expiring quickly in comparison to the category of pain that Kylo is accustomed to.

A hit to center mass is far more excruciating. He's acutely aware of the consequences of being shot at in close range with a blaster. He's redirected a countless number of shots back into their targets. As far as deaths rank, it's an awful way to go. The blast had a tendency to burn through clothing and tissue alike, instantly cauterizing the edges of torn flesh. A direct hit would leave him with a decent sized hole in his abdomen, completely at the mercy of how long it took his body to recognize organ failure.

But the blast never comes. 

In fact, after the bright flash fills the room, the girl is no where it be seen. It's like she's disappeared into thin air - vanished without a trace - as if she had never even been there. The only proof Kylo has that he hasn't been completely imagining her presence is the dampness upon his chin and the wet stain that is soaking through the neckline of his shirt.

The most pressing matter on his mind - aside from the girl disappearing - is the clear absence of her blaster’s impact. There is no doubt in his mind that it had been fired. Thousands of hours of combat and training had deeply ingrained both the sound and the flash of weapons similar to the one she had held. It's almost etched into his memory, almost instinctual the way the very ring of the mechanism makes him reach out with the Force. He prepares to push the space around any incoming projectile and skillfully direct it back at her, yet there is no emission of the trademark beam that travels his way.

It dawns on Kylo that there's a possibility her gun has experienced a malfunction. But Kylo knows what a malfunction looks like - and it definitely doesn't result in the bolt disappearing into thin air. There would have been no flash present, had the fuse short circuited.

He knows blasters are always designed with a fail-safe, even in old and highly modified models like the one she had been carrying. Not having a fail-safe would cause electrocution to the user, and any combustion would result in a stump for a hand. Not to mention if the girl had been electrocuted, she’d be on the floor and in agony.

While the idea of her on her back appeals to Kylo in a predatory way, he has no interest in the smell of charred flesh. It reminds him far too much of that last night on Luke’s planet, where a handful of his fellow pupils had perished, burning alive in a collapsed hut while as he stood there and watched. 

The instant disappearance of the girl causes a deep seed of concern to arise in Kylo. Reaching with the Force fails to pick up any signs of life - for at least several miles. Even if she somehow had been able to ignore the effects of the voltage in her weapon riveting throughout her body, it was still next to impossible that she managed to travel of his range of detection in such little time.

“Reveal yourself,” his low baritone voice whispers into the darkness.

Kylo positions himself so that he is directly underneath the overhead light. He's alert and paranoid as he scans the dark edges of the room that surround him. He moves to the far side of his cell, where the girl seems to have first appeared from. He places a frantic a hand along the wall before pushing and pounding against the granite. There has to be a door. There has to be something he missed. Yet no matter what pressure and force he exerts upon the wall, no hidden panels reveal themselves. No hidden outlines of a door impress themselves upon the sensitive pads of his fingertips. No imperfections were to be found against the impeccably smooth surface. He is undoubtedly alone. There is no other way around it.

He raises his healthy hand up to the damp patch near his collarbone, fingers fisting in the material - if only for confirmation that the events that had transpired were no figment of his imagination. He stands momentarily in disbelief, returning himself to stand below the faint glow that emits from the small holes in the ceiling. It's impossible, he tells himself for the hundredth time.

Completely at a loss for any reasonable explanation, Kylo slides down to his knees and moves into a sitting position. He stares blankly into the darkness, searching his mind for further interpretation of the events.

She was real. She  _ had _ to be. 

Several possibilities run through his mind, the first being that she was a very complex hologram. Of course this theory is instantly shut down when he remembers her ability to hold real, solid objects - such as the flask and blaster. Then his thoughts turn to the possibility of her having been a machine. But that doesn't explain how he had  _ felt _ the girl with the Force. Her very presence had been like fire burning bright and out of control in the cold vacancy of his cell. Droids didn't do that.

The empty feeling he is left with reminds him much of the early days on Luke’s planet. Leia had dropped him off, planning to spend at least a few nights while Ben settled into his new home. Then there had been an emergency transmission that had come through during the night. His mother left before he had even had time to say goodbye. Gone before he had woken up that morning.

The feeling of utter abandonment had left the young Ben Solo hollow, but that had been his mother, and he had been just a boy. So why does he feel that way now? And why was it in reaction to a complete stranger - one that he’d lost tolerance for quite swiftly.

He chalks it up to the isolation. To the way that he had been enjoying how girl had gone so quickly from bold and cocky, to cowering below him. His body had been completely anticipating giving into its needs but was subsequently blue-balled. The source of his high had been ripped away from him. That has to be it.

The brief, yet lively encounter has taken a lot out of him. He's running on his last legs as it is, his body having become acutely accustomed to spending his days with as little movement as possible. Kylo's still joints ache from their use, and it doesn't take a doctor to tell that his muscles had clearly atrophied. Uncharacteristically, Kylo can even feel his heart pulsing in his chest, as though he had just finished running a marathon.

Sitting down brings an instant curtain of drowsiness over him. He fights restlessness in order to keep his eyes open, to stay alert and prepared if the girl were to appear once again. He doubts she'll be in the mood for talking. Of course, that is all assuming the Resistance is foolish enough to send her back into his vicinity. He doubted it, especially after she had only narrowly managed to escape becoming another casualty of his wrath. Even his mother likely wouldn’t hesitate to call him a monster after seeing his latest behavior. Not when he's been so painfully clear what he had intended to do to the girl.

It was really too bad that he isn't going to be able to have her. She isn't as curvy or beautiful as some of the women the First Order tended to provide, but the sight of her bare, lightly freckled skin had turned him on to no end. The mere thought entertains Kylo immensely. He can almost imagine the sight of the girl underneath him, pushing on his abdomen in an effort to create space between them - to no avail - as he drives his cock into her. 

She would have probably put up one hell of a fight. The girl had been fearless and feisty. Most of the women he had been with were subservient, too willing to bend to his every whim. It's her uniquely defiant nature that he keeps coming back to. There's no doubt in his mind that she would have fought him with every thrust, every squeeze, and every bite. It's an appealing way to spend his dying days, clutching her body against his as he split her in two, over and over again. He’d use her. Break her. Not just her body, but her spirit as well.

Even in his starving state he feels himself grow hard at the image conveyed in his mind. Without much thought, he presses his palm against the head of his dick, pushing against the fabric of his tented pants with a groan. His stomach protests almost immediately, reminding Kylo loudly why rubbing one out was a bad idea in terms of conserving fluids. It is a cruel fate that he has absolutely nothing else to think about. 

In response he goes to work, harnessing his overactive imagination to flood his mind with unappealing images (Han in nothing but thigh-high socks, Chewie without hair) - things had never before failed to quell a growing erection. 

As if on cue, just as his boner is about to deflate completely, her voice echoes in the space between his ears. It's as though she's still close by, leaning over his shoulder and whispering directly to him. He stills, taking a moment to sit and listen in the dark. The cell is dead silent, only resulting in making the urgent and hushed gasps louder.

_ ’Is this a trick?’ _

He rotates his neck in all directions, eyes narrowing as he reaches out to feel for life around him. As expected, no obvious signatures seemed to accompany her voice. Though, now that he can picture its source, certain parts of Kylo’s body are springing to attention once more. The opportunity to get laid is clearly a priority that his subconscious has placed near the very top.

_ You tell me _ , he thinks to himself, and himself alone. he doesn't expect an answer.

Though, perhaps he had said it out loud and didn’t realize it, because the voice responds promptly and in a surprising rush of disbelief,  _ I shot you! _

She isn't behind him, no matter how much it sounds like it. She isn't in his cell. Her voice doesn't appear to be coming from the holes in the ceiling either. All signs point to her not being there, but yet her voice remains.

_ ’You tried to shoot me,’ _ he corrects her, speaking out loud once again, into the empty void of his cell.

He can practically hear the way her breath hitches at his response. Her voice isn't nearly as fearful now as it had been when he was standing over her. Instead it carries an air of confusion. He can practically imagine the way she licks her lips and bites the inside of her cheek. He needs to stop thinking about her lips.

Kylo has never considered himself to have an overactive sexual appetite. The few women he had spent time with were simply there to fulfill a need; he had felt no connection or actual desire for them, other than perhaps a way to vent his aggression. Even then, seeing objects destroyed and force-choking his lessers were proven to have been far more effective than sex as an outlet. 

He tells himself that his desire probably speaks more to how long it has been since he had spent time with a woman, rather than the appeal of the girl in question. Even without seeing her, her emotions seem so obvious to him, not by the way her voice wavers, but the way that he can  _ feel _ them. They are so raw and unfiltered, as though they were his very own. It's comparable to the way Snoke enjoyed pouring anger and fear into him through the use of the Force.

Kylo sits up straight and attempts to mull over the facts. The things he knows with certainty. He had been hearing her voice long before she had appeared in physical form. The only rational explanation for this is the use of a speaker system. Or…The remaining possibility was not one he had wanted to consider.

_ 'How are you hearing my thoughts?’ _ her voice inquires before he can articulate his own conclusion.

It has to be the Force. 

The Force often popped into his life, attached with strange phenomena. The eerie feeling he had been experiencing when she first materialized could potentially be explained by his Force sensitivity - and possibly hers. Not to mention that he was hearing her voice inside his head, nearly identical to the sensation of Snoke speaking directly to him through the Force. It is just as uncomfortable, if not an even more unwelcome thought that this stranger had gained access to his mind. All the while, Kylo remains far too weak to properly shut her out or defend himself mentally.

Considering this, he reevaluates his situation. It is almost a certainty that the Force has connected him to this stranger, but in waning intervals and varying levels of strength. There is absolutely the possibility that the girl has appeared to him before, but in the darker corners of the room that he's unable to see. Though it's an unlikely theory given her confrontational reaction. She doesn't seem like the sort to just sit there and stay quiet if he popped into her personal space. Their connection is limited, Kylo deduces, but it seems that they sometimes manifested the ability to see each other, and only each other. Assuming she's bound by the same rules as he is

_ You’re hearing mine too _ , he finds that thinking is much easier than speaking. That the rough texture at the back of his throat is far easier to deal with when his vocal chords aren't rubbing themselves raw.

Based on the girl’s defensive reaction, he had likely appeared inside of her home or private dwelling. It's likely he's scared the shit out of her. It also explains a few of her questions that were suffering from clear misinterpretation. 

_ ’I don’t see you.' _

_ But your voice indicates you're right next to me _ , the unspoken thought is tacked onto the end of the sentence. It travels intrusively to the forefront of his mind.

_ Likewise, s _ he responds.

Does she know about the Force? He remembers that she didn’t show any recognition when he first provided her with his name, and he's one of the most well known Force sensitives in the galaxy. So probably not. Based on her clothes and old blaster model, he's probably dealing with some nobody in an uncultured, poverty stricken society. That, or the planet she's on has very strange taste in clothing.

If all he assumes turns out to be true, then there has to be a reason behind it. Beyond trying to understand the meaning of their connection, he wonders why it had decided to present itself now, of all times. Clearly his connection to the Force is still strong strong enough for this sort of thing to occur, even in his waning state. That begs the question of what causes the fluctuation in its strength. It clearly isn't determined by his mental state.

He can practically feel as she swallows the lump in her throat, sucking in air before continuing to speak to him again through her thoughts,  _ Get out of my head! _

_ I would if I could _ , he tells her,  _ Trust me, this is just as bad for me as it is for you. _

_ ’Why should I trust you? You were moments away from attacking me.’ _ She's speaking out loud again, likely finding the concept of speaking purely through thoughts to be intrusive.

_ I'm not the one who shot first. _

_ ’Only because you were going to touch me.’ _

And he has little doubt he would try again if she were still present.

_ ’You do know you’re projecting your thoughts to me, right?’ _ she informs him. 

This lack of privacy was going to be far more annoying than he anticipated. He can barely control his thoughts, much less his body's reaction to having this girl in close mental proximity.

_ I'm beginning to understand the nature of this… thing,  _ he tells her.

_ 'And what exactly is this?' _

_ A connection _ .

_ 'What do you mean?' _

_ I have yet to find out the meaning behind it. _

_ 'That's less than helpful,' _ she seems unamused, but then a brief realization suddenly hits her,  _ 'Does that mean you can hear my thoughts as well?' _

_ More or less. _

The contents of her mind are rapid and fleeting, interwoven with confusion. The sensation is new and strange to him, making him unable to clearly decipher much. Just when he begins to get close to grasping a brief understanding of a feeling or thought sent his way, another pushes to the forefront of his mind, and he's forced to start the entire process over again.

_ Just.. stop. Stop thinking for a minute. I'm trying to figure out what's happening, and it's impossible when there's an onslaught of,  _ he searches for the word,  _ You. _

_ 'I can't just stop thinking,' _ he hears her voice counter.

Kylo swallows. His throat is already beginning to dry, what temporary relief he's experienced from the flask all but vanished. Almost instantly he remembers the object and how wonderful its contents had felt as they traveled down his throat. Despite the water having been luke-warm and filled with a grainy texture. He freezes at the very realization of the significance of this small detail.

Items are transferable between them. Food. Drinks. Even holos, assuming wherever she was located has access to such a luxury. 

There was likely a limit to how large objects could be, but in this moment it doesn't matter to Kylo. The new development is the chance to avoid starving to death. The possibility that he isn't going to die hasn’t truly been in consideration up until now. Sure, he swears up and down to himself that he will fight it until his last breath, if not purely out of spite, but the very notion that he has the chance to get out of his current predicament is a complete game changer.

He needs to get food. Water. Maybe even a chisel to slowly pound away at the walls. 

_ 'You believe I would help you?' _

A brief flash of a desert planet enters his vision, along with the foreign knowledge that food and water are hard to come by. Hunger. Thirst. She lives through it. He doesn't know how he knew that, but everything in his being says it's undoubtedly true.

She wouldn't help him - even if she could, he knows he's fucked this all up from the beginning. He'll have to manage by using his  _ charming personality _ to somehow convince her that he wasn't obsessing over every little way he could fuck her brains out. 

This would be so much easier if he hadn’t screwed everything up by thinking with his dick. There is absolutely no way she's going to agree to do anything for him after his little display. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if she tried to shoot him a second time. There were no promises that the connection would cut once again at the right moment to prevent serious injury. This was all assuming that whatever exists between them had the ability to grow in strength enough to have her appear again.

Knowing that his reply will be less than friendly, he decides against answering her question. Instead, Kylo does his best to picture his cell, to picture his bleak circumstances, and project them as clearly as possible to her. He does his best to avoid why he's current imprisoned, to avoid focusing on what he had done to deserve such a fate. Instead, he focuses himself, sending over thoughts in a cold-hearted attempt to garner any ounce of sympathy that he could make available to him.

It feels as though he's hitting a wall. Complete and utter rejection are sent hurling back at him. He grits his teeth.

_ I don't expect you to help me because you want to. I expect you to help me because you have to. _

There is that charming personality of his, rearing its ugly head.

_ 'I don't have to do anything.' _

She doesn't. But it's not like he's going to tell her that. In fact, he continues to do his best to think of anything but the truth; that this girl very easily choose to forget about him, let him die, and it would be of no consequence to her. There is zero reason that any person in their right mind should bother to help him. Not unless he decides to get creative and use what little knowledge he had about her to his advantage.

_ You need me, _ he tells her, conviction in his voice,  _ This connection has bound us. If I die, you die. Have you been feeling hungry? Thirsty? _

He senses her apprehension as she takes a moment to reflect upon the last week or so. She's always hungry and thirsty, he can feel her thinking this as she tries to rationalize her way through the situation. He can tell by the pregnant pause and lack of answer that she is second guessing herself. it's exactly what he wants. She is full of uncertainty and he needs to take advantage of that. 

_ I'm starving and dehydrated. My thirst is your thirst. My hunger is your hunger. _

_ 'How do I know you are telling the truth?' _

_ You don't, but the consequence of being wrong is death. Do you really want to risk that? _

She's quiet, and for a moment Kylo thinks she will call his bluff. He isn't afforded an answer however, when the unmistakable sense of her drifting further away takes hold of him, the connection between them fading.

The last, fleeting thought that transpires is the knowledge of the girl's name.

_ Rey _

  
  



	4. Days 9-11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days 9-11: Kylo really wishes he could take what he wants. it's too bad Rey isn't budging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments on the last chapter gave me a ton of motivation, and I wanted to thank you guys by sending another one out wayyy ahead of schedule. You all rock my socks. 
> 
> This is the longest chap yet at over 6k words. Not sure if future installments will be this long - I just go where the story takes me.
> 
> 10/3 - revised chapter

Her name is _ Rey.  _

It is fitting, considering the way her presence had burned so brightly in the contrast of the darkness of his cell. 

Beyond being a pestering, unnatural annoyance, the connection is intriguing to Kylo. The lack of her mind touching the peripheries of his own left him with a sense of dread and dependence, a feeling that he immediately attributes to the unknown. He doesn't know when - or if - she will appear in physical form again. Or more importantly, if she'll show up with food. The invisible chains that bound them had been severed in the matter of an instant, as though a door had been shut in his face. The undeniable feeling of being alone once more strikes Kylo like a bolt of lightning, freezing his body in place where he sits.

Time, as far as he can tell it, passes at a snail’s pace. Kylo Ren’s body refuses to relax, refuses to yield control to his meditation techniques; those of which would have taken advantage of his pain in order to help ease the passage of time. More importantly, he needs relaxation in order to slow his bodily functions down, but it's like a subconscious part of himself cannot be calmed, like the worries flowing through him are not his own.

The more Kylo thinks about it, the more he considers that his instincts are correct, and that the pangs of fear aren’t necessarily his own. Such nervousness seemed far more characteristic of the girl -  _ Rey _ , he reminds himself of her name. He hadn’t spoken to her for more than fifteen minutes and yet he feels he can paint an accurate picture of her quirks, mannerisms, fears, and ambitions. It is as though he's garnered an extended knowledge of this strange little scavenger. At his disposal is plethora of newfound information that he can fall back upon as a resource. It fills the empty corners of his mind that had been previously vacant. A new and enticing set of facts lay in wait, each coming as easily and naturally as those he knew about himself. The only caveat seeming to be that they consist of a foggy and confusing mess. They are impossible to piece together unless he knows exactly what he is looking for. He knows he'll need to become more familiar with her mind if he expects to use the bond to his advantage.

He experiences flashes in his vision, of information that is not his own. There is significance in the meaning of an endless trail of tally marks. He vaguely grasps the strange necessity of the ritual to keep track of the days as they pass. Though why she counts the days as they pass still remains a mystery. Among other things, Kylo finds access to breadth of knowledge about old, out of commission starships. A graveyard of the Empire's greatest ambitions, sunken in sand, roasting underneath the dry heat of the sun's rays. He finds he can picture, by memory, the internal organs of various decommissioned star destroyers, knowing unnecessary details, such as which parts were of most value. It is as though he's suddenly gained access to a wealth of useless information.

Most striking is the newfound stress of an abundant lack of food and water. Relentless training kept Kylo's worries regarding starvation well contained in the past. There was power in the knowledge that there was no point in fretting over the inevitable. Instead, a new sensation that is not his own tears through his facade, whether he wants it to or not. It is her worry, he surmises. It's yet another piece of baggage he is going to have to haul around his subconscious. Perhaps most prominently is the awful sensation of hunger. It is an ancient feeling, one neither with beginning nor end. It seems to consume her every thought and action, driving home a sense of paranoia regarding what the future held. Yet within the uncertainty of things to come, he finds repetition. She spends her days doing the same thing, over and over.

She is always accompanied by a hollow sensation. There is loneliness. Loss. His embrace of the dark side has long ago cast away such trivial emotions. The only relevance and meaning these words now have to him are that he elicits such reactions in others. In fact, producing these feelings brings him a sickening sense of joy. A smile to his face.

Perhaps it would have been worse if he knew exactly how much time was passing. Instead, Kylo is left to guess - at the mercy of when and if the Force chooses to connect them once more. With any luck it will hurry up and manifest be before he starves to death. He is certain the time that had passed consists of days, but then again, it could have easily been mere hours. He is powerless in his current situation; all hope he holds is poured into the expectation that Rey will reappear. And when she does, that she will thrust food and water upon him.

Lost in deep thought, Kylo almost doesn't notice her form when it appears just feet away from him. Her back leans against the wall, head staring directly forward at nothing in particular. Or maybe something, but he doesn't have access to her environment. The edges of the walls are blanketed in a thick cloak of black, very nearly making her invisible to the naked eye. Reaching out with the Force aids his senses, allowing him to see things that are otherwise hidden in the darkness. 

He sits next to her in silence, having taken up a similar position of resting against the granite wall. Kylo opts to say nothing. It is in his best interest to not risk being shot by his trigger-happy scavenger. Minutes pass, and he begins to suspect that she's asleep. That is, until she turns her head in his direction, exposing one side of her face to the faint glow of light in the room. 

The first thing he notices are her full, sun-kissed cheeks. Kylo is acutely aware that their connection is open and lacking a proper filter, so he tries not to think about her shoulder nearly touching his own. Or how little effort it would take to overwhelm the girl and play out some of his more one-sided fantasies. 

_ Too late. _

She shoots him a dry look, eyes glaring daggers in his direction before she repositions herself a few feet away from him.

“Can you not?” her voice is haughty and drenched in disbelief. As if she can’t imagine that someone like him existed. As if she expects a dying man to not spend his remaining time thinking about tits. 

“It’s not like I can just turn it off.” 

At its foundation, the dark side discourages pleasant memories, harvesting the source of its power from pain and anger - both of which Kylo was overflowing with. Those in the light work constantly to curb such sensations, along with attachment and lust. It is only natural for Kylo to gravitate to what the light forbade, he tells himself. If lust is the only one of the few sensations that doesn't cause him to feel like complete shit, then he would consider himself a fool to push it away. Especially when it comes so willingly.

It isn't like he's made it a habit of partaking in sexual activities during every moment that he found himself free from his duties. It isn't even as though there's a warm female body waiting for him each night. Carnal pleasures aren't nearly as rewarding without moderation. But now? From the moment he's laid eyes on Rey, he's opted to set aside any notions of restraint. There is no place for it while standing on the precipice of death.

Kylo is determined to draw from what is before him, and what is before him just happens to be this girl. It is simply a coincidence that she checks each and every one of the boxes regarding physical traits that he suddenly finds appealing.

The place in his fantasies that had previously been claimed by a faceless woman with a constant carousel of different features now belonged to her. Where he once spent his time focusing on the small, specific things that turned him on - breasts bouncing, a firm and shapely ass, a figure that he could grip by the hips, palms splayed against smooth, soft skin on long legs - he now pictures Rey. And nothing but Rey.

A bevy of very specific traits seemed to accompany his desires. Brown hair, pulled back. A few loose strands near the temples. Said messy strands sticking to her forehead from sweat. Along with all of this, the woman in his imagination now had a slight tan on her skin, accompanying sand-swept cheeks with a hint of crimson to them. There were her lips that tempted and teased him, a mouth always just slightly agape. He wants - almost painfully - to shove his dick in that little gap, taking solace in the way her small mouth would stretch and grip him. And those are just the details of her from the neck up. 

There is literally nothing else he would prefer thinking about. Food only reminds him of his hunger, and water of his thirst. Thoughts of sex are like an escape from the reality he's been stranded in. They are a haven of pleasurable visuals in his mind that do not go against the dark side's core principles. 

“Would it kill you to think about something other than… that for just five minutes?”

"You should be flattered."

He wonders if Rey is aware of how she tempts him with that stupefied look of hers, moist (but cracked) lips drawing ever so slightly apart as a small gasp escapes through them. She can't possibly be that naive. If she doesn't know, the images he's involuntarily sending across their connection certainly provide ample enough descriptions.

"Flattered? By your perversions?"

He avoids her gaze. In most situations, for most men, that would have been a sign of shame. Kylo Ren is not your average man; he is long past being haunted by insecurities and remorse for his actions. All he does is for his own benefit, and his alone. Keeping up this line of thought isn't smart though. For the sake of his survival, he needs to at least try to remain in Rey's good graces. But that is a tall order, especially when he doesn't have any outlet for the building pressure in his groin.

“It’s not like I have much else to think of.”

He tries not to think about the specifics of his incarceration, strictly imagining his surroundings rather than the reasons behind them. The less she knows of the First Order, the Resistance, and his place in the universe, the better.

“Poor you.”

He cocks his head while quirking his brow into an arch. His lips draw into a smug, sarcastic expression,  _ Poor me. _

A silence grows between them that neither seems willing to break. It is far more preferable to their verbal sparring, and possibly the longest moment they have gone without escalating the tension shared between them.

Then, as if it has a mind of its own, a loud, audible groan from Kylo's stomach reminds him of where his priorities rest. 

“Did you bring food and water?”

“Who says I gave your request any serious thought?”

He almost laughs, but ultimately he is able to hold his amusement in, “The only thing you think about is your next drink and meal. I can _ feel  _ the way you've been obsessed, thinking of ways to escape this situation. There's no point."

No answer. Irritation springs from within Kylo’s chest, having fully anticipated her to fight him. He had been ready to exchange a few barbs. Against his better judgement his hand goes shooting out to grip Rey by the chin, forcing her to meet his gaze with her own. Even in the dark he can see the way that the contact startles her. 

"It consumes you. Don't you dare try and hide it."

With her own hand she moves to shove his grip away from her face. Defiance fills her eyes, eager to meet Kylo's forcefulness with equal fervor. His hand drifts down to the exposed skin of her throat before fully withdrawing.

“Why would I share what little I have? With you of all people.”

He doesn't miss a beat, knowing that her buying into his lie is the difference between life and death, “Because you value your life enough to worry about it."

"You have no proof -"

He cuts her off, knowing exactly what she is going to say before the words even leave her mouth, "We share thoughts. We share hunger. You feel my emotions as I feel your own. Is it no stretch of the imagination to consider that the event of my death would extend to you as well?"

She falls into another bout of silence, and this time Kylo opts to wait it out. He keeps reminding himself that can't afford to push it. Even if every aching bone in his body is dying to do so.

“It’s not - " she begins, seemingly searching for the right words, "Where I am, on my planet, food is scarce. It's not easy to come by." 

She is staring protectively at an object in her lap, caging it from view with her legs. It's almost defensive behavior, as though she is guarding something that is incredibly precious to her. He doesn’t have to think twice to know it's food. And he wants it.

“So you have to steal it?”

She looks at him as if he's insulted her with such an assumption, "No, of course I don't steal it!"

He gives her an affronted look in return, raising his hands in the air in defense, "I wasn't passing judgement. It's not that big of a deal if you do."

"Well I don't."

"Okay, so it's really expensive. I'm sure there's a way we can scrape together the credits you need."

"We?"

"You," he concedes, not willing to die on account of a small technicality. 

"And it's more like it's non-existent. I spend literally every moment of my time gathering scrap to trade in for portions, and I still go hungry most days."

Portions? Is she in a militarized zone?

“Scrap," he repeats the word, remembering the newfound memories of Empire era tech, sunken in an endless sea of sand.

"Yes," she reaffirms, no doubt following his train of thought, "and there's only so much of it lying out in the desert."

“Okay," Kylo presses the fingertips of one of his hands to his temples, trying to figure his way out of this mess, "How much food do you usually get?"

"Depends on the value of what I can salvage."

"On average, how many portions do you net per day?"

"Per day? I don't think you understand. I'm lucky if I get a full portion once every three days."

She isn't looking for sympathy, it's quite clear by her tone. Lucky for her, Kylo isn't about to provide any.

"Alright… and how big is a single portion?" 

Her hand reaches out, and a little greenish-brown square materializes inside of it, held out cautiously between them.

"Please tell me that's half a portion."

"I could, but I would be lying."

_ Damnit. _

With his eyes set on the square, Kylo realizes he needs to seize the moment and take the food before she has the chance to stow it away again. He reaches out to snatch it, but Rey is much too quick for his dull reflexes. She yanks her hand away before he even comes close to glimpsing the little packet.

“Has anyone ever taught you manners?”

“My mother tried,” he snarls.

“Try harder! I only have two!”

“One for each of us then.”

Through the bond he can feel how ridiculous she thinks his suggestion is. It is out of the question. She thinks him to be an absolute idiot with no concept of how the world works, that much is clear.

“Let me clarify: I always save one extra in case of an emergency. A sandstorm or when I can't find anything to salvage. You’d be eating my safety net." 

The image of a curtain of sand emerges from somewhere deep inside his mind. A trapped, panicked feeling accompanies it. Despair. Stress. Most of all, the endless hours - no, sometimes days - of waiting the storm out.

With any hope, he thinks perhaps the portions are like First Order ration bars. A single bite of one is enough to satisfy one's hunger for a whole day. Kylo is really hoping that is the case.

"It's not,” she answers, reading his train of thought. 

He pales, knowing immediately she's telling the truth. Rey has never once known the feeling of a fully belly.

“So… how long does a single portion typically last?”

“If I space it out enough… maybe two days. By the third day the hunger is all I can think about, so I try to replenish what I have within that time."

He looks at the square with a sense of emptiness that doesn't just originate from his stomach. He is surprised it had taken him this long to realize how bleak his situation is. It is just his luck that this girl lives on some backwater planet with an economy based entirely on little squares of compressed nutrients. Food is so kriffing valuable on her planet that she can barely sustain herself, let alone him. A more empathetic and caring person may have sought another solution, but Kylo is an exceptionally shitty individual. 

“Looks like you’ve stumbled upon your emergency.” 

His voice is cold and callous in its demand. He holds out his hand, the expectation of food sent loud and clear through the bond. He doesn’t need their connection to tell by the look on her face that his request is almost painful to her ears.

"You're going to have to give me it at some point. Let's save some time and do it now."

She really doesn’t want to share. He can see it on her features and in her thoughts. It is clearer than any single feeling he's previously shared with the girl.

_ Too fucking bad,  _ he shoots back at her, thinking it rather than saying it.

With an immense sigh, the portion is placed in his palm, so tiny and pitiful in comparison to his huge mitt. It satisfies Kylo with a small victory. He lifts the slab to his nose, and his nostrils burn as they take in its foul odor. It smells more like human waste than food. He watches with some apprehension as she begins to nibble on her own ration, taking careful and tiny bites.

_ It can't possibly taste as bad as it smells. _

He lifts the square to his lips, deciding to throw caution to the wind and address his mounting hunger. It is a better alternative than starving. 

_ Nope  _ , Rey sends through the bond, a moment too late. 

His gag reflex goes into action when he tries to swallow, eyes watering as the horrific taste fills every corner of his mouth and airways.

“This is not food,” Kylo spits at her with venom worthy of a snake.

He holds out his hand again, beckoning toward her with a frantic gesture, “Drink. Give me a drink. I need something to wash this down.”

“Are you going to waste it all?”

_ Fuck you,  _ he sends non-verbally, but his gritted words are somewhat kinder, “I can’t swallow this shit without water.”

Rey doesn't seem to appreciate his dry wit, remaining unmovable as a pissed off look enters his eyes. His ragged throat protests against swallowing the gritty portion.

"Just give me it." Oh, how he hates having to beg for shit.

Unsurprisingly, she seems to ignore him completely. What does surprise him is the way her hand shoots to clutch at the junction in her throat, desperation mounting in her eyes.

_ Interesting. _

It seems that the bond is more than a mental link. There's more than just the sharing of hunger and memories. His pain is her pain. An interesting concept, though only further pressing the matter of  _ why  _ the hell the Force is doing this.

"You feel it too?" It is a statement, not a question.

Perhaps Kylo’s little fib about dying isn't so far off from the truth? Not that he is about to conduct any experiments to find out. Though it does serve him well to reevaluate their current situation - effectively, the girl had just turned into dead weight that he had no way of cutting loose.

"Hand it over," his voice is harsh, and the knowledge that her discomfort would be quelled upon result is clearly articulated. The combination of words and thoughts seem to persuade her, for she can't shove the familiar flask into his hands fast enough.

Kylo locks eyes with her as he takes several deep sips, savoring the water far more than in their previous meeting. She stares back, contempt rolling off of her in hostile waves.

A rogue thought creeps through his mind. She's beautiful when she's angry.

Rey must have heard it because she snaps her head forward and goes back to pretending that he doesn't exist. He only finds this to be further motivation to study her, watching as her nostrils flare in in exasperation. At him. At the situation. At everything and anything she can think of.

Kylo smirks, flask lifted to his mouth and head tilting back. A trail of water drips from out of one of the corners of his lips. He can’t help himself from finding satisfaction in antagonizing the girl. He knows it to be counter productive, but it turns him to no end to see the way she flusters underneath his gaze. Finally, that sense of control that had been stripped away upon his capture was now returning in a rush of pride.

He forces down another bite of his portion, flushing it down with water. How the hell does this girl live off of this shit?

“You need to make that last at least a few days,” she informs him without making eye contact.

He stares down at the little square in his hand, suddenly coming to the realization that he's already consumed more than half of it. He can feel Rey taking back the reins, knocking away the confidence and swagger that had been building only moments before. 

"You can't possibly expect this," he gestures at the half a square between his fingers, "to last me that long. Now would be a great time to admit you’ve been fucking with me. It was a good joke, but it's losing its comedic value by the second."

"As much as I enjoy pissing you off, I'm not a liar."

She is undeniably telling the truth. Which is awful. Just kriffing awful.

“Seems as though you-" and he very nearly says 'we' once again before catching himself, "-have your work cut out for you."

He can hear her mind concede to his statement, likely unwilling to allow herself to agree with him out loud. A pause between them gives Kylo far too much time to think. But it's not enough, because he probably should have thought a little longer before making his next suggestion.

“You know, there are easier ways to get food.”

Rey’s eyes dart in his direction, only catching tiny wisps of the entirety of his point. She isn’t following. He's going to have to spell it out for her.

"You’re wrong. There aren’t.”

“Sure there are.”

It goes unspoken, what he is hinting at, but the image comes flashing into her mind very clearly and without any risk of misinterpretation.

“You think I would sell myself for food?”

He tries to shrug off her shocked expression. She wants to be surprised he even had the nerve to suggest such a thing, but he feels her remind herself who she is dealing with.

“You’d only really be selling your time.”

“It’s out of the question.”

“I’ve been to a thousand different planets, and I’ve yet to come across one without a market for sex. Even your shitty little planet is bound to fit the norm.”

“I’m not a whore.”

No, she isn’t. And if Kylo was honest with himself, the fact that she doesn't debase herself to that level actually appeals to him. It shows that she values herself. That sort of confidence is refreshing and enticing.

“And besides, what happens if this connection decides to present itself during the act?”

“Then it would be considered dinner and a show?” He probably shouldn’t have said that.

She gets to her feet, indignation scrawling across her features, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

_ Yes.  _ “No.” His words conflict directly with his thoughts. He really needs to figure out how to filter and block off the connection during inopportune moments like this.

Rey begins to stomp away, and Kylo knows instantly that she intends to put distance between herself and him. To attempt to severe the connection between them.

"Rey," he calls after her. Her name on his lips seems to have a profound effect on her, though he can't quite decipher the exact combination of emotions through the bond. She seems surprised that he had bothered to call her by it, or perhaps it's that he's actually bothered to remember. But that isn’t it. No, it is unfamiliarity with the very sound of her name being produced from someone else's lips. The fact that she can recount perhaps only a handful of times that anyone had ever referred to her by anything other than 'girl'.

Rey grows bitter as she feels him draw his conclusions. She hasn't meant to share that information. It was private. Personal. "Go away!"

Kylo lets out a frustrated noise in response, wobbly as he rises to a standing position and follows after her reluctantly, “Rey, come on. Don’t be like that.” 

The second time he speaks her name, it has far less of an impact on her. She looks over her shoulder at him, no doubt in his mind that he has long ago journeyed over the edge of what she considers acceptable behavior.

He hates that he needs her. Hates that he can’t just simply cut her out like everybody else in his life. 

“Rey, stop.” Emotions leak out from her side of the bond.

She is alone. Desperate for companionship. And while Rey’s prayers for any semblance of a connection had been answered, it is _ him _ that she is now tethered to. It seems she is generally so easy-going. Hell, she can even see redeeming qualities in a Hutt if she needs to. It isn’t as if she had expected someone to sweep her off her feet, but anyone else has to be better than Kylo Ren. There is no friendship or comradery between them, and it is next to impossible to set the foundations of a healthy relationship when your mind is constantly under invasion by intrusive thoughts. Of all the people in the universe she has to be chained to, she can’t believe that it has to be him.

As for what what raises conflict within her the most... It is the knowledge that she will never have that sort of relationship with someone. There will never be anyone else. If this connection continues to occur, any possible friendships she attempts to forge from now on would pale in comparison to the way Kylo had access to her. He could hear her thoughts. The way her mind worked. She feels that it's inevitable that he'll eventually discover all of the baggage it comes with. The things she's able to hide and keep private from others were without boundary when it came to this man. The entire concept of establishing a normal connection with someone new has been spoiled, all before it even had the chance to begin. There is nothing she can share with another person that would run this deep.

Rey has tried to rationalize it into a positive light during their time apart. That he is handsome, in a quirky sort of way. That he is at least a human who spoke basic. But that almost makes it worse, knowing exactly how deep his dysfunction runs. How he craves her. The rejection and desire he has to expel her from his mind.

All of this knowledge hits him at once, like a thread unraveling and out of control.

“This doesn’t have to be painful,” he says before he can stop himself. He rectifies any suspicion that he cares in his next sentence, "You aren't exactly a dream to be around either.”

It is not the right thing to say, and Kylo realizes that a moment too late. Anger flares through the bond like the flames of a fire. He takes the opportunity to move swiftly, grabbing her by the arm before she can travel any further.

“Look," he grits his teeth, "I probably shouldn't have said that."

"Probably?"

"Don't ask me apologize. I'm not going to."

She decides against dignifying him with a reply. Instead Rey spends her energy attempting to yank her wrist from out of his vice-like grip.

“Look, I can help you, but only if you help me,” he attempts to reason, all the while not relinquishing his grasp.

“By sleeping with me?”

_ Yes.  _ "No." 

Technically speaking, all the activities he wants to engage in with Rey normally require both parties to be wide awake. 

"I mean I'm not going to complain if you-” he quickly changes the topic, realizing he is digging his own grave, “I can get you a ship.”

She seems wary of his offer, as if there has to be a catch, “To trade in for portions?”

“What? No, to get off that crappy little planet.”

“What if I don’t want to leave?” Stubborn defiance laces her words.

The thought that she wouldn't want to escape her personal hell had not crossed Kylo’s mind as a possibility. He would do just about anything to get out of his current prison. He's got no idea why anyone would want to stay on a godawful planet where they were liable to starve.

“Jakku.”

“What?”

“The  _ awful  _ planet you’re referring to is called Jakku. And it’s my home.”

They name seems vaguely familiar. Kylo tries to recall some of the historical holos he has read.

"The outer ring planet?"

"I would assume so, unless there's another Jakku out there."

“I mean, in an infinite universe…” his voice tapers off.

“You aren’t going to convince me to leave.”

He knows better now than to press the point further. Even without the bond Kylo can tell that they both are going to refuse to budge on their relative stances. He lets go of her arm, satisfied that she is no longer attempting to leave where he could not follow.

“Why stay?” The unspoken question is out in the open now, begging to be addressed.

“My family is coming back for me.”

“Family. You have a family?”

She nods, “My parents. I haven’t seen them since I was a girl, but they’ll be back for me.”

It isn’t like Kylo to avoid being the bearer of bad news, but he knows he needs to show some restraint. This is Rey’s reality, and he needs to be careful about how he broaches his next subject. He tries to be subtle. He can do subtle.

“Why did they leave you there in the first place? Doesn’t seem like they gave much thought about your well-being.”

“And you do?”

Kylo's silence seems to speak volumes. Even if he wants to lie and claim otherwise (purely for selfish survival purposes), she’ll be able to tell that he's not being genuine. Thanks to the bond she can read him like a book. Like his own mother.

Rey remains stoic, not budging an inch even under the full brunt of heavy stare, “I’m not leaving.”

“Okay,” he grinds his teeth and set his jaw, trying to piece together how he is going to contact the First Order to drop off a ship on her planet, “How many portions would a ship get you?”

“Depends on the ship.”

He scans the memories that are available to him, comparing the graveyard of ships to those in the First Order’s fleet. It would be no use naming a ship that she doesn't know of. He needs something she can recognize, inside and out.

"How about one of the newer  _ TIE  _ models?"

Rey’s eyes light up, and memories surface of an older edition of the ship, scattered to pieces over sandy dunes. Perfect. "A _ TIE Fighter  _ ?"

"Sure."

"You have a real working  _ TIE Fighter  _ ?" He detects a hint of excitement in her voice.

If only she knew. He has an entire kriffing fleet and a handful of Star Destroyers to boot. This girl is practically living in the stone age like some prehistoric relic from another time, a stark contrast to his life aboard the  _ Finalizer. _

"I don't enjoy repeating myself, Rey."

He is telling the truth - for the most part. Kylo’s ship is a  _ TIE Silencer  _ , but it still belongs in the fighter class. Plus, it isn't like this scavenger has the capability of telling the difference.

"Show me."

"Show you?"

"You don't like repeating yourself. Don't be a hypocrite and make me do it."

_ Fair enough. _

But the gravity of her request remains heavy on his mind. She is asking him to completely open up their connection, to establish a raw and real memory. He has sent thoughts to her, but those are so simple in comparison to an actual memory. She is asking him to show her a moment in his life, complete with all the emotions tied to it.

"Well? Is that not something that this connection allows?"

"It is."

The issue at hand is the subject and nature of the only memory he can draw upon clearly. Swallowing the dry layer of grime that's accumulated in the back of his throat, Kylo takes a step to close the remaining space between them. 

Rey is taken aback momentarily by the close contact. Her shoulders become tense and rigid. It only gets worse when he places his hands at her forearms, sliding his fingers gently up to her shoulders and then down again to her biceps. A shaky gasp escapes her lips, the sound traveling straight to his cock. 

He is almost astonished that she abstains from shrugging him off. Her curiosity is getting the better of her though. By some miracle she's opting to allow him this intimate action - if only due to the opportunity to experience something new and exciting through the exchange. That possibility seems to far outweigh any discomfort his touch leaves her with.

Rey doesn't rush him, and for that he is grateful. It is almost as if she knows the way he needs to ground himself before accessing the necessary information. Gone is Kylo’s sarcasm and macabre sense of humor. He is all focus now, his heavy gaze drinking her in before closing his eyes. He swims in the current of his racing thoughts, drawing upon an inaccessible corner of his mind and removing the locks and walls he's built up so precariously. 

Kylo focuses in on his senses. The way her skin is so fucking soft. The way her arms feel small in his hands. The rhythm of her breathing. It is intoxicating, being so close to someone who isn’t going to push him away. Especially after so much time alone and in the dark. 

He takes her to the place where the memory is hidden away, watching as it begins to materialize before Kylo's eyes. It is as strong and vibrant as the very day it took place.

In an instant, he's once again in the pilot seat of his  _ TIE Silencer _ . His vision is somewhat distorted by his mask, a faint glow around the edges courtesy of the artificial lighting that his helmet provides. Gloved hands are gripping the controls before him, lights blinking on the dashboard as the world passes by outside the cockpit. Kylo can almost feel himself sway and lean into the sharp, sudden turns as he maneuvers the craft skillfully around incoming projectiles. 

He had been caught in a dogfight, the goal of outwitting his opponent clear at the forefront of his mind. There is nothing else that mattered in the moment. Nothing else seems to exist.

Both he and his adversary are skilled pilots with a wealth of experience under their belts. It shows in the way the pair exchange fire, twisting and pulling, wrestling for dominance. The memory reveals that they had made this dance in their countless previous encounters. But this would be the final time.

A red light begins to flash in warning, the whirring of an alarm indicating that he's been hit. To the average observer, it seems that he's in dire straits. But he knows what he's doing, an eerie sense of calm not betraying any of his features.

His left engine chokes up, and he hurls closer and closer to cerulean waters below. Kylo works quickly to activate the back up, all the while racing against the mercy of gravity, suspended in a free fall. The engine suddenly roars to life, exhilaration filling Kylo with a cocky sort of arrogance as he narrowly pulls up in time to avoid the waves below. 

He isn’t going to take anymore risks. This was going to end now, once and for all. 

Trailing just behind his adversary, Kylo reaches out with the force, utilizing intimate knowledge of the enemy starship in order to pinpoint its frailest junctions. The screech of crunching durasteel can be heard above the roar of both ships' engines, metal buckling under pressure somewhere on the opposing craft. 

The pair draws closer to the surface of the ocean once more, momentum shifting in Kylo’s favor in the blink of an eye. He pulls up on the joystick in order to avoid impact with the water. The other ship may as well have been a junker, sputtering in a tailspin as it makes a move to bank hard in a similar fashion. But something internally malfunctions in the enemy freighter. For good measure, Kylo simultaneously mashes the buttons that activate his blasters, and he lands a direct hit on the center of the modified YT-1300.

Breaking into two pieces, the Millennium Falcon smashes into the crest of a large wave. A puff of smoke and fire erupts into the air momentarily, and Kylo Ren knows he has succeeded. 

Han Solo is dead. He had expected relief, but instead he felt nothing. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually make a habit of writing end notes, but I needed to share how much I enjoyed writing this. 
> 
> Writing is something I do in my free time, to get all my ideas in a form that others can access them. Sometimes it can be more of a chore than a pleasure for me. I've heard other authors say that their stories are *fun* to write, but until this chapter I never really understood that. This was a freakin blast! Who's ready for more?


	5. Day 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Rey learn more about the rules of their bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy! this chapter establishes some rules for the bond. Was meant to have more reylo in it, but the length kind of ran away on me and I decided to end it at about 5.6k+ words. lots of love for you guys!
> 
> 10/4 - FINALLY finished with the editing process.

Day 11

Rey gasps as she is pulled out from the memory. Her eyes are wide and unreadable, her tanned cheeks slowly depleting of color. It is almost akin to her seeing a ghost. Almost simultaneously Kylo releases her from his grasp, stepping back to put some much needed distance between them. His grip on her arms had tightened far more than he had anticipated during the process of the memory. When he opens his eyes, he can see his knuckles were white as they clutched the better half of her bicep. On his own arms he can feel the impression and strength of his grip. It is a strange sensation, but Kylo is far more concerned about other things. That the memory had been far too detailed for his liking. 

When Snoke would search his mind, it was like an all out assault. Walls he would erect around certain memories were promptly blown to pieces with resistance making little difference. His master is quick and deliberate in his movements, but there are still small things he can hide from him. His feelings and his thoughts remain his own. Snoke almost always only cared to skim the bare surface of his mind, wanting no part in trivial human emotions that were attached to the information he searched for. He was a spectator, not a participant as Rey had been.

This had been so different. It was much more intrusive. He feels claustrophobic in his own skin, like he is being stretched thin and vulnerable. Like he is a little boy using the Force for the first time, afraid and unable to control his own actions.

"What was that?"

He ignores her question at first, instead choosing to grind his teeth and clench and unclench his jaw. Kylo does his best to maintain steady breathing, counting in his mind to aid himself.

_ In with four, out with six. _

It is a technique that Luke once taught him. One that he would often resort to as a child, when he felt the world was falling down around him. It usually does well to ground him, but this time it isn't providing any semblance of relief.

Doing his damnedest to not betray the fact that their shared experience has knocked the wind out of his lungs, Kylo lifts his good hand to wipe sticky strands of hair away from his damp forehead. With a stony expression, he at last replies, "A  _ TIE-Fighter. _ "

Rey shakes her head emphatically, not at all affected in the way he is. In fact, the vision seems to have had a reinvigorating effect. She's pulsing with energy, "Not that! I felt your emotions. I could feel the ship move as though I was there!"

"It was my memory, you felt what I felt,” his voice is dull and strained, wishing to put the matter to bed.

"Yes but.. I thought it would be less..."

"Interactive?"

“No, it just felt so personal. So raw.”

Through the bond he can easily read her and what she really wants to say. She can feel the dark cloud that has followed him since childhood. It is heavy and suffocating, like his own personal burden. She’s never felt anything like it, never felt the raw power it imbues in him.

“It was nothing.”

He doesn't need the bond this time to tell what she's thinking. That it hadn’t been insignificant to her. It had been  _ everything  _ to this uncultured scavenger from the inner rim. The thrill of manning a starship alone has been like nothing she's ever had experience with, exceeding any of her wildest expectations. He decides to just be grateful that she isn’t latching onto the specifics of the memory.

"It was overwhelming. I've never been in a working ship before, never mind the controls."

_ I know.  _

He can see that she has stood in the cockpits of decaying Star Destroyers. The thousands of different switches and buttons that Kylo is accustomed to having been gutted and stripped. Wiring springs loose from the transmission board, some of the panels are even pried open in order to harvest internal resources. She has never experienced the way the lights flashed, the buttons responded, or even the roar of an engine with hyper-drive capabilities. The ship had seemed so alive to her.

As though she is reading his very thoughts, she continues to elaborate, "There was so much more than just that though. I could feel the blood pumping through your veins as if it were my own. I could feel your.. Anger?"

"That's the nature of the bond," he retorts dryly, hoping to stop the direction of the conversation before she can get one foot in the door. Kylo doesn’t like talking about his personal life, never mind providing an explanation for a memory that he wouldn’t mind purging from his memory. 

He can tell she is still riding the high of the battle. It is indistinguishable from the feeling of a child manning the controls of a shuttle for the first time. It reminds him of what he had felt when Han had sat him upon his knee and told a small Ben Solo, “ _ Go crazy, kid.”  _ His emotions had been so pure and untethered, not yet exposed to the bleak realities of the world. So much like Rey’s, even as she deals with her constant struggle to fend off starvation.

Her voice is soft and reflective when she speaks again, attempting to broach the subject gently, "You were so calm - even when your ship got hit. I felt the urgency, but it was so controlled."

"It's the nature of the bond," he repeats his earlier statement, "It hides nothing"

"You say that,” she pauses. He can’t tell if she has to gather her wits or her words, but it doesn't take long for Rey to continue her train of thought, “That it that hides nothing, but there was more to it. That memory was important to you."

Kylo replies almost too quickly, a rebuttal tumbling from his lips before he can even fully contemplate her statement, "It was inconsequential." 

"No it wasn't.”

As if for emphasis he shakes his head vigorously, holding up a hand in defense as he speaks, "I've shot down hundreds of ships. Search your mind. You know that to be true. Do you think this one was any different?" 

"You were familiar with the other ship. You anticipated and knew what the pilot would do before he did it."

"Experience in action."

He should have chosen a different memory. But it is too late to dwell on that fact. In his ailing state it had been the only one strong enough to access with relative ease. Kylo doesn't have the strength to shuffle through his  _ TIE-Silencer _ memories to find something that he'd deem more appropriate or safe. Everything else is soaked in the dark side. More often than not they involve verbal sparring matches with Hux, their simmering disagreements over the comms channel providing far too many details that he would rather keep secret from Rey.

She can’t tell why he is being so evasive and tense about the subject, especially not after he's just opened himself up. Does he honestly expect that she isn’t capable of picking up on the little things? 

"You know what I mean!"

"I don't." He refuses to. He can't. It is easier this way.

"Who was that in the other ship?"

He seethes at the very notion of the question with all intentions of slamming this door in Rey’s face, "A dead man. Does it matter?"

"It does."

She is trying to pry, trying to understand him. His immediate reaction is to bare his teeth and create distance from her mentally, physically, and in any other way he can possibly accomplish. She may be bound to him, but had an adamant refusal to give into it. Not if he could help it. 

Voice imbued with venom, he snaps back at her, "It doesn't matter, Rey. You don't know me and I couldn't care less about you. Hell, I only tolerate you because I have no other choice."

Instead of becoming meek and timid under the assault of his harsh words, they only seem to build up her resolve. It is a stupid, stubbornness that Kylo can't help but loathe at first sight. He is much more accustomed to getting his way with little resistance. If he was met with said resistance, he was used to being able to strangling it out of his subordinates.

Her eyes are like wildfire, burning into him beyond his skin. She creeps under his skin, fills the cracks between his bones, and flows like the rapids of a river through his veins. There's an acute sensation of his mind suddenly being invaded, and his thoughts are projected into the dark void around him without restraint. He is being swallowed up by her presence in a way he never anticipated. It takes all his effort to keep his walls erected, only allowing Rey to skim the thoughts resting at the surface of his mind. 

"You tolerate me because you need me,” she speaks to the realizations as she stumbles upon them, “I don't know where you are or why you aren't able to get yourself food and water. I'm not going to ask because I can already tell you won't give me a straight answer. But make no mistake, I am not stupid like you make me out to be in your head."

He grits his teeth and resolves to push her out from his mind, "You're perceptive."

"I  _ do  _ know you. I may not understand you, but I can tell crystal clear that this thing we've been forced to endure together scares you."

"I don't feel fear anymore," he snarls at her, stepping forward to invade her space as he had done earlier. This time it is different though; before when he had crowded her it had been with the intent of fulfilling an instinct sexually, to revel in the presence of the opposite sex after knocking on death’s door. This time he is a torrent of pure anger. His eyes do not look at her with desire, but with an unbridled rage that is barely being held back. 

His voice is low and dangerous as it scrapes against his throat, “I incite it."

Rey can see he isn’t used to exercising such restraint. The effort he is putting into not acting upon his violent ideals is taxing on him. She is betting on him tiring himself out from the mental exertion, confident that he doesn't have much left in the tank.

Kylo follows her train of thought, responding with a determination to prove her wrong. His shoulders are angled in a way that seem to cage her in, leaving no angle of escape due to their proximity. Rey steps back, and he follows her step for step until her back hits the edge of his cell. More than likely she had hit a wall in her own surroundings.

"You aren't going to hurt me." He can sense no doubt in her voice or mind, even in the places that are normally reserved for apprehension and suspicion. If she is bluffing, she is doing a very good job of it.

His fists clench. For a brief moment he even forgets about the wound on his palm, far more focused on the girl before him. His concentration lapses when he feels the sting of the blisters that had taken form, his nails having inadvertently squeezed on the sensitive skin. Kylo immediately welcomes the pain.

"I could," he feels himself grasp blindly for the surge of power that accompanies the sting of injury. It is akin to squeezing water out of a sponge. Though in Kylo’s condition he is only able to gather small, fleeting droplets.

"You won't."

"You’re so sure of yourself. What happens when you’re wrong?" 

He still hasn’t actually touched her, but his hips are just inches from her own now. His eyes bore holes into her own. She does not relent or cower under his intimidation. It would have impressed Kylo Ren, had it not been so infuriatingly obtrusive.

Without an ounce of fear, Rey pokes a finger into his chest near eye level. It is like poking a sleeping Rathtar. She is playing with matches, dousing herself in flammable liquid, and expecting not to erupt into a blaze.

"You want to hurt me. I see the things you wish you could do,” her brows knit and crease, as though she is trying to make sense of the madness inside of him. 

He sends over a clear image of her eyes watering, of how he imagines she would look as she gasped for breath. Perhaps he wouldn’t even use the Force? Maybe he’d overpower her, fuck her from behind, and grip his hand around her throat as he pounded himself into her womanhood over and over again.

She wavers only slightly at the mental image, already growing somewhat used to his antagonization. “I can tell you have experience doing those things. But you know you can't do them, and it’s eating you up to have to hold back."

His lips are pressed into a thin line as she parries his words. Kylo’s towering stature alone is intimidating, looming over her like a shadow. Coupled with broad shoulders and long, extended arms, his body language alone is like an unspoken threat. If Rey hadn't been connected to him through the bond, she might have even taken it seriously. Might have thought him to simply be dog lunging for meat, being held back by the grace of a tattered leash on the verge of tearing.

Instead, everything he does and say is weightless. She holds firm, meeting his gaze directly and not backing down. She is right and he knows it. In a swift, frustrated sigh of exertion, Kylo steps back from her and puts some healthy distance between the two. At least she isn’t asking questions anymo-

"Who was the pilot?"

"You aren't going to drop this, are you?" He already knows the answer. He doesn’t know why he even bothered to ask.

"Nope."

He snaps his eyes to hers, looking like he isn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. He bunches them into fists, waving them in animation to pair along with every syllable he speaks, "You are so fucking annoying."

“I’ll stop asking if you start answering." She doesn’t miss a beat, even sounding unconcerned. A bit brazen and cocky, it’s like she knows his options are compromised.

"It was a very old thorn in my side,” he manages to eek out through his annoyance, “He's  _ dead  _ ."

She ponders his words, taking a moment for reflection, "Why were you fighting him?"

"We had moral disagreements that couldn't be resolved in a more conventional fashion." 

It’s vague, but not untrue. A perfect explanation, given the most perceptively irritating creature in the universe currently had the ability to read his mind.

"About?"

He throws up his hands, "Does it matter?"

"Yes, I think I have a right to know."

"What gave you the impression that it was any of your business?" he snaps back, defensive as ever.

"How about the fact that we're connected by space magic?"

He sputters for a moment, unable to comprehend the absurdity of her words.

"The Force."

A pause. "What?"

"We're connected by the Force."

A bark of laughter emits from out of the girl’s mouth, "The Force? As in Jedis and laser swords?" 

"Yes."

Memories of Luke flash into his mind, while hers consist of some crudely imagined designs of lightsabers. Which weren’t even close to looking like the real thing. Oh, the things he would give to have his saber right now. That would definitely stir fear in her heart.

"That's impossible,” she scoffs, “Those are just stories for children. It’s a dead religion and nothing more."

He can tell where the conversation is going, her thoughts practically shouting across the bond with such reckless abandon. She wants proof; which means she’s going to be demanding more memories. No matter how hungry or thirsty he was, Kylo isn’t about to give in. If only to preserve his dignity, he wishes to maintain what little privacy he has left. He isn’t about to give in to purely prove a personal point.

"If you're expecting me to try to convince you otherwise, you're going to be disappointed."

Rey barks out a small laugh before realizing he is serious. Disbelief appears on her face, a look that he has become quite familiar with in their brief time across the bond. 

"You don't honestly believe in all of that?"

"My stance has not changed in the last five seconds,” his voice is razor sharp.

He can almost feel the gears in Rey's head turning, trying to read him. Trying to find insincerity in his statement. She’ll be sorely mistaken, as there was none to be found. Worse yet, common sense convinces her that he has no reason to concoct an elaborate lie that fails to directly benefit him. Still, like all things in her life, instinct demands that Rey continue to approach the subject with skepticism. 

“Even if you are right,” and she can’t believe she is entertaining it, “the Jedi are gone.”

“Not all of them.” 

He pushes away the immediate image of Luke’s face that pops into his head. Far away. Kylo’s paranoia is such that he worries that even thinking of his Uncle would be enough to cause some sort of communication channel to open between the two. The Force was doing crazy shit that he couldn’t control, and he isn’t about to experiment with it like some sort of mad scientist. It is more or less the same reason he has resolved to keep his mind off of Snoke. The last thing he needs is to have Luke, Snoke, and Rey all sifting through his mind with very little protection.

“Skywalker?” Despite his best attempts, the girl still seems to pick up Luke’s name skittering around his mind.

“What about him?”

“Even on Jakku we’ve heard the stories. Of how he confronted Vader and the Emperor and won.”

“Where did you hear that?”

He notices that she seems much less confident when it comes to talking about herself. “When I was a child there was a man who told us stories.”

The memory becomes clear: there had been an old man who visited the Niima outpost. He had wanted someone to guide him around the planet’s wreckages without cost, but no one would take him up on his offer. Rarely did anything get done on Jakku without the expectation of something in return. He had been at the outpost for three days before a small gang of children, Rey included, agreed to show him a handful of downed ships only a few miles away.

It proved to be an excellent use of her time; she had learned so much. The man had impressed the local children by being able to point to any ship and recall facts about it. He had been excellent at identifying pieces of wreckage, always having a story to attach to them. It was a single brief moment in her life that she had genuinely enjoyed. An experience which made her momentarily forget about her set of dire circumstances.

From the foot of the shards of a Star Destroyer, the man had told the children about Luke Skywalker, the Jedi, and the Force. She can still remember the way his raspy voice sounded, and the way it never failed to shower them with the tiniest details. Even as his lungs had begged for reprieve with bouts of coughing fits, the man was determined to share his stories. But that had been among fables of green covered planets. Planets with nothing but water. Even now such worlds seem impossible and fictional.

Then again, Kylo’s vision  _ had  _ included a planet with water stretching to the horizon on all sides. She determines that her world is growing in size and possibilities very rapidly.

"So let's say you're right. That makes you what? A Jedi?"

"Don't have to be a Jedi to have access to the Force." The way he says it is ominous to Rey. Something dark interweaves itself with his words. Bitterness.

"But that trick you did with your hand.. you did something to that other starship."

He doesn't answer. Kylo is wrestling with himself, debating on how much to tell her. About the Force. About his past. All the while tension continues to build in his temples, a migraine setting in, somewhere on the horizon.

"I could feel it, remember? It was unreal. There was so much power in it."

"I'm not a Jedi," he repeats, and there is no question between them as to the validityof his statement.

She takes his words at face value, "If you aren't a Jedi, what does that make you?"

"It doesn't make me anything. Just like it doesn't make you anything."

He needs to be careful. From what he can gather, Rey seems like an extremely naive and innocent soul. She plays by the rules and doesn’t want to hurt anyone.  _ Most of the time at least.  _ Letting her in on his history - in that she was nursing a war criminal back to health, would be detrimental to his goals.

"I don't know how to use the Force. You do. You've had training or something."

"What if I have? What does that change?”

"It means we might be able to figure out why this -  _ thing -  _ is happening to us." She gestures between them, as though her point was obvious.

He shoots it down immediately, "The Force doesn't work like that. It doesn't just slap you in the face with answers."

A huff of exasperation escapes through her lips, "Then do you have any other ideas to contribute?"

Stubborn arrogance fills him, "I suggest you keep me alive and find some sort of communication device."

But he can feel it. She isn't planning on budging. She isn't dropping the talk about the Force. He  _ almos _ t feels like yielding to her demands and giving her access to the corner of his mind that stores his knowledge of the Force. She’d be free to sift through the details that way, and he wouldn’t have to endure more questions. 

_ What?  _ No. Why was he even entertaining such a stupid idea?

"If this connection was caused by the Force, it means it must be due to something you've done."

With the accusation thrown in his direction, Kylo reacts hotly and on pure instinct to deflect her statement. In that moment he doesn’t care what’s being said, only desiring to prove her wrong once again.

"Not necessarily."

Rey cocks her head in confusion. She recognizes that she is getting somewhere, breaching the metaphorical walls that have been built around him.

The girl presses harder, “Explain.”

"You have it too. The ability to draw upon the Force. It's why we're being connected."

"That's impossible... I’m nobody." She speaks it as though it was a fact she spent repeating to herself on an endless amount of occasions. Because it was true, whether she wanted it to be or not.

"The Force doesn't care who you are." 

Sure, the only reason he probably has control over the Force is because of who he is; he would concede that. He would also point out that the man who became Vader, Anakin Skywalker, had come from nothing.

"You're talking about it like it has a mind of its own."

"It's not far from the truth." 

One of the few things he’s ever agreed with Luke about regarding the Force was its penchant for coincidences and tingly feelings going down one’s spine. It is almost sentient in the way it pushes and prods its users through life.

"There's still no evidence to support what you're saying."

Kylo can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. He is going to enjoy proving her wrong. "There is though."

"My participation in this bond is not ample evidence. It's a result."

"It is evidence, but it’s not the only thing that proves me right. Remember my memory? You just said that you could _ feel  _ when I reached out."

She isn’t so easily convinced, "That's because it was your memory."

"You would have known what I was trying to accomplish when I reached out with the force, but you wouldn't have actually felt it. You’re Force sensitive."

"But I thought I felt what you felt?" Confusion crawls out from her side of the bond. He shrugs it off the best he can, distancing himself from the emotion that he deems unimportant.

"The Force transcends memory. You said it yourself - what was it? Unreal, I believe."

“I felt the way the ship turned and twisted too, but as you can see, I’m not flying at the walls from the impact of it. What I felt in there was just how you remembered it feeling.”

He pauses in thought, trying to come up with an understandable comparison. And to figure out why he is even bothering to try and explain this to her.

“If you were blind would you be able to see my memory?”

“What?”

“Or how about if you were deaf? Would you be able to hear anything in my memory?” He adds another example for her sake.

“I don’t know.”

“You wouldn’t. You can’t experience sensations that you don’t have access to. Feeling the Force is just like another sense in this regard.”

He can feel the way she connects the dots, drawing the very same conclusion as he does. For once, Rey seems to yield to him, finding his explanation suitable and without need for further interrogation.

"So you're saying that this bond was formed because I am Force sensitive like you?"

"Precisely."

She nods, taking it in. She lifts a hand to her face and wipes at her cheek with the back of it. He can see how she’s sweating, small drops of condensation falling down her neck, disappearing into the crease between her breasts. He would have given anything to be that drop of sweat right now.

"How are you certain that is the cause?" 

Spurned back into reality by her latest question, Kylo diverts his eyes, "There's a rare history of this sort of thing happening. I didn't draw the conclusion in the beginning because I didn't know you were a projection. I thought you were actually in the room. Every detail supported it. You were able to give me your drink. I could feel your presence, alive and bright."

"But then I shot you." Her voice tapers off, mind seemingly on the very same path that Kylo had begun to travel.

"Then you shot me" he affirms, "and you disappeared, and so did the blaster's shot."

"I didn't know what to think," she admits, "I was surprised. I didn’t let myself relax. I thought you were hiding and waiting for me to sleep."

That would explain why he had been so on edge. The undue stress he felt when he tried to meditate.

"I was feeling around, searching for a door or panel you escaped in." A vision of him blindly feeling in the dark for imperfections surfaces. Details of how he had felt, of how he was unable to find an access panel, of the dread of knowing that he was trapped, escaped over to her side of the bond. They did not go unnoticed by Rey.

"Where exactly are you?"

Just when he thinks they are getting somewhere, she complicates things again. He needs to shut this conversation down immediately. It is not a road he wants to travel, or a detail he wants to discuss. He has already given her so much information that he never had intentions of sharing. Kylo further curses the bond and his inability to full wrangle control of it.

"Enough questions. I did what you wanted. I showed you a  _ TIE-Fighter. _ Was it not what you wanted?"

"It was,” she concedes.

"Then we should continue our original conversation." He had nearly forgotten how this had all started. That the whole point of sharing that memory was to get food. To eventually escape the prison he is being held in.

"Fine. But only because you did me a favor."

His filter disappears, and he says exactly what he is thinking, "I'm beginning to regret doing anything nice for you."

"I'm beginning to regret giving you food or water."

Kylo rolls his eyes, ignoring her quip. He can already feel how dry they have become. With that vein of thought in mind, he searches the ground for the flask she had handed him earlier. He must have been projecting over the bond, because Rey bends down, said flask suddenly materializing in her hand and being offered up to him.

Alright then. It seems the objects she gives him disappear from his reality once he no longer touches them.

He takes the flask from her, fingers touching her ever so slightly. It’s as though a jolt of electricity is shot through his body, and he practically drops the object in surprise. 

Recovering quickly so that she doesn’t have the opportunity to say anything about it, Kylo moves on, "So how many portions will a TIE-Fighter net us?"

"I don't know. I've never traded in anything that wasn't just a spare part. Or anything fully functioning."

_ Great.  _ He lifts the flask once again to his lips, taking advantage of the moment before she and its contents decide to disappear again. She’d have to hold onto his portion as well. Which means he’s at the mercy of how often the bond decides to connect them, allowing it to dictate the frequency of his meals. 

"That's not very helpful."

She lifts a hand to her chin in thought, "I think I'd get at least ten portions for it. It also depends on if Unkar Plutt is in one of his moods."

"Unkar Plutt?"

An image of a putrid looking alien floods his vision. For not the first time that day he tried to reason with himself to look on the brighter side of things. He could have been sharing a bond with that  _ thing. _

"He's the trader who has the portions."

"Well he's ripping you off if he only gives ten portions for a kriffing ship."

"I don't have much of an alternative."

Wonderful, the repulsive creature holds a monopoly on food. 

"Would it be worth more to tear apart the ship and turn in the parts?" he offers, but the thought of ripping any perfectly good ship apart seems less appealing than sticking his dick in a vat of acid.

Rey doesn’t seem to have many objections. It was after all, her way of life. "Maybe. But I wouldn't risk it."

"What's the risk?"

"Ships don't last long on the ground on Jakku. I'm not the only one who needs portions."

"Can't you just shoot anyone who comes too close?"

"No. I'm not killing anyone."

"So  _ now  _ you're suddenly concerned about where you fire your blaster?" He can’t help the jab. Not when it’s been served up to him on a silver platter.

"You provoked me!" she shouts defensively, and for a moment Kylo actually thinks they are enjoying each other’s company. Her voice indicates. The feeling fades quickly when he remembers what he had been doing to earn a blaster bolt from her.

"You would have shot a hole in my gut,” he growls, “Don't think for a minute you weren't aiming for my internal organs."

"But, as you can plainly see, I didn't shoot a hole into your gut. And that's beside the point. I can't defend a ship at all hours of the day. I'm not the only scavenger on Jakku." 

An exhausted groan releases from his throat, patience running thin. It almost feels like she’s arguing just to argue at this point. For the sake of his survival, Kylo soldiers on and through the headache that is Rey.

"You can't hide it?"

Visions of, long flat dunes appear in his mind. There are shifting sands occasionally revealing untouched treasures below, only to build up once again and swallow them whole. His situation could  _ not  _ have been worse.

"Okay,” Kylo gathers his thoughts, telling himself that he’ll come back to the subject later. There is a more pressing matter at hand, and that is the method of how he’s expecting to deliver any ship or resources to her. The First Order wouldn’t just take Rey’s word if she patched herself in, name dropped him, and requested a TIE-Fighter. They’d think she was fucking insane. Although there is a code he could provide her with to override any debate as to who is ordering the supplies. No one but him knows the code, and it’s meant to only be used in dire straits. 

He supposes this qualifies as dire. “There's no way I can even get a ship to you unless we can access a communicator."

Rey lights up, finally finding a way to make herself helpful, "The trading post might have one."

"Do you know if it has interstellar capabilities?” 

"I've never even used one before. I have no idea."

Maybe he could just have the First Order drop her off some food. The situation is becoming ridiculously convoluted. It annoys him to the point where he’s debating whether to ask her to shoot him with her blaster again. But that won’t work anymore. Because he had so _ brilliantly  _ lied and told her that if he dies, she dies. 

"Do you think that any of the downed ships in your area have one?"

"Not likely, no. Everything accessible has been thoroughly gutted."

"What about rigging together some parts to at least make a short range comm?"

“Even if I did find something like that, I’d have traded it in for portions.” It is like having a conversation with a durasteel wall.

“So you don’t have access to comms. You aren’t willing to leave your planet. And food is impossible to come by.”

She gives a curt nod in approval of his summary. He closes his eyes to think, but by the time he’s reopened them, she is nowhere to be found. Kylo is left alone and in the dark, with nothing but his thoughts to entertain himself.

“Wonderful.”

  
  



	6. Day 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo addresses his other needs. And answers some questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on revising the first five chapters the past two weeks. Nothing in the story's changed, it's just for quality purposes. Think I added about 3k words though. Sorry for the wait.
> 
> Just wanna say this is the first time I've posted smut online. So I guess that's pretty cool. let me know if it sucks.
> 
> This is your last warning: this fic will have non-con elements.

Day 12

With his body somewhat replenished by the grace of the combination of the small meal and an entire flask of grainy, sand filled water, Kylo’s body decides it’s time to turn to _ other _ needs. Those of which he is certain Rey’s generosity won’t be so easily extended to. They are needs that he hasn’t addressed since his freedom was stripped away from him. Needs he really should have been ignoring, given his predicament, but his body has a mind of its own.

The body part that operated in space between his legs has been slowly coming to life over the past half hour, despite his best intentions to fight it. The looming risk of Rey materializing through the bond remains on the forefront of his mind, and it’s the number one reason that _ this _is an awful idea. If he’s being honest, he’s surprised he can even get an erection with paranoia running rampant, unleashed and set to roam free among his thoughts. But of course biology is biology and his dick always finds a way. 

He tries to recall the last time he rubbed one out, hoping to reason with the blood that was making its way into his crotch region. It’s been over a week at the very least. Maybe two. Probably during his last week of freedom, though the repetitive nature of his routine makes it hard to pinpoint and distinguish the memory among all the other times he’s taken care of himself. _ Two weeks isn’t that long, _ Kylo argues to himself. He’s gone longer without administering a handjob to himself. He can do this.

The notion of holding out vanishes when his mind wanders to the only detail he can remember concerning his last masturbation session: the dirty holo. When previously addressing his sexual needs he almost always worked with visual aids. He wouldn’t say he needed them, but he certainly enjoys watching holos that depict his brand of rough aggression during intercourse. The need to dominate his partner has always been a theme in his sex life. It's no different now. Hell, it’s probably increased with the addition of Rey into his life. The lack of holos aren’t an issue, he’s got an excellent imagination. What does bother him is that his imagination is decidedly lacking creativity, stuck on conjuring images of a brunette with fair skin and a fiery temper.

It isn't that Rey is overwhelmingly beautiful or even charming in personality. In fact, Kylo didn't think he'd mind if she spontaneously lost the ability to speak overnight. _ Rey's average _, he tells himself, but it's that plainness that he finds himself inexplicably attracted to. And he’s not sure why. His best bet is that it’s a side effect of the bond.

For perhaps the hundredth time Kylo finds himself thinking about what exactly draws him to the girl, outside of the obvious reasons involving the Force and his necessity for survival. It's something that his subconscious fights every step of the way, not agreeing with any logical assessments of her unremarkable looks, and it’s even less optimistic regarding her attitude. Yet that isn't the worst part.

He can deal with the idea of a mental connection to a stranger; he's dealt with Snoke in his head for the better part of his life. It's the fact that he's overcome with desire, with a frustrated brand of _ want _, that is grating. It results in him being unbearably horny.

Being at the mercy of his dick reminds him of when he was a teenager, and had just discovered his attraction to the other gender. The situation he’s in is much like that time in his youth when he knew women turned him on, but he had little idea as to why and when they made the transition from purely annoying to being a sexual object. Nearly twenty years of experience now in the bag, Kylo knows what he likes. He knows what kind of material to refer to in order to get this shit out of his system. It has rarely deviated or evolved. But now it’s more like he’s suddenly realized that he’s got a specific thing for girls with _ all _ of Rey's defining features. 

He’s horny like a teenager who saw his first pair of tits, cock tenting in his pants uncomfortably. It’s a battle of paranoia versus sex drive at this point, and his need to jerk off is winning by a landslide.

Checking for the hundredth time that he’s alone, Kylo pulls out his cock and pumps himself with his hand. It’s weak and timid at first, but he gives into the demand for pleasure quickly, emboldened by the fact that he’s still alone. Even while thinking of Rey. 

He bares little shame in the way he pictures Rey, the entrance to her lean body tightly gripping the head of his dick. He's missed this almost as much as he misses eating regular meals. Kylo's motions become more frantic and his eyes become heavy and lidded as he applies further friction to the head of his cock, shifting down the shaft, and back up again. 

He pictures Rey and her perky little tits, filling in the places her clothing covered with his imagination. It would have been so easy to rip that dainty piece of cloth right off of her body. He can practically feel the way the material would give little protest to the manner in which he'd tug at the material resting on her shoulder, pulling it down her arm before moving to the other side. 

Maybe she'd protest. Yeah, she'd definitely fight it. Especially since the Rey in his mind isn't wearing any underclothes beneath her most outer layer of clothing. He can almost visualize it now, the way she would cross her arms against her chest in order to hide herself. It would only prop her breasts up further, but she wouldn't realize that. There's something about her inexperience that is driving him insane, driving him to push past the ache in his elbow and wrist, a tug at his dick with purpose.

Kylo's fantasy continues, and he's consumed by it, like there's nothing else in the world. He'd grab her by the wrists, yanking her arms away from their modest position. He would feel the resistance, her muscles contorting and twisting to try and break free, but his strength against hers is a losing battle. He'd have his way with her, turning her around and bending her over with ease. 

He'd finish with her clothes after she settles into her new position. If he’s honest with himself, he probably wouldn’t even think to wait for her to understand what was going on. He can imagine the small noise Rey would make as he tugs the rest of her garment off of her body. Maybe he'd rip it? Yeah. His cock clearly agrees, standing to attention, hard and heavy in his palm. He'd rip everything off. No doubt about it.

“Fuck,” he gasps out loud. For the first time in over a week, Kylo’s seeing lights. If only they were real. 

He thinks of how his dick would look, pressing softly against her entrance. She'd be shocked with the way he'd force himself in, eyes wide, body tensing as she had no choice but to accept him - all of him. Every inch would be slammed into her precious cunt, pressing firmly in the deepest parts of her. She'll learn to take his cock, he thinks. Maybe not at first. Kylo was quite large, even his more experienced former partners finding him to be a tight fit. He's only begun to rock back slowly, drawing his cock out from the wetness between her legs when he spills over the edge and onto his hand. 

He repeats himself a second time in less than a minute, “Fuck.”

He didn't really think about clean up. There wasn’t room in his brain for that when he had first begun. Normally he wipes his hand off on a shirt or towel and have some droid take it away to be cleaned. Here in his prison he had just become aware that he was without such luxuries. Kylo isn't about to wipe his cum on his only shirt and pants. 

Of course that’s when the bond decides to materialize Rey in front of him.

He can scarcely see the outline of his hand in the darkness but he can feel the evidence of his previous activities between his fingers. Like a teenager hitting puberty for the first time, he is struck with a juvenile sense of panic, dick still hanging out of his pants. 

Rey’s small gasp of surprise might have been enough to get him back to full mast, were he not having flashbacks of Leia walking in on him masturbating. He feels shame. It’s a very strange and unfamiliar feeling that Kylo hadn’t experienced in years, forgoing emotions that would brew uncertainty and conflict in his journey to embrace the darksider mentality in its entirety.

He’s suddenly becoming acutely aware of the way he’s frozen, hand held in front of himself, penis softening against the cool air being filtered into the cell. He moves quickly to pull up his pants, hand recoiling almost instantly as he’s reminded of the mess covering it. 

“What are you doing?!”

Even in the dark he can tell that Rey’s eyes are locked at the junction of his waist, curiosity getting the best of her. The bond is broadcasting her shock aggressively, the connection instantly strengthening in the brief moments since she’s reappeared.

“Fuck!” Kylo barks out in irritation, using his clean hand to yank up the waistband to cover himself. A reaction of disgust appears on his features after he does so, wiping his hand vigorously against the smooth granite floor. It doesn’t work very well. 

“What are you doing?” she asks again, this time more on guard than surprised. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he spits back with venom.

Rey doesn’t have an answer for him, a fact in which he’s suddenly grateful. His temper is nearly at its limit. He has to repeatedly remind himself that it’s not worth it to put his life in jeopardy just because she got a quick peek at his erection hanging out of his fly. 

The entire situation is laughable, really. Wasn’t it not that long ago that he was struggling to keep his dick in his pants around her? Now it’s a fucking requirement.

Like a thousand times before, an ugly silence rests between them, Rey covering her face with her hand in embarrassment, Kylo simmering. The hormones he’s experiencing from his little excursion with his hand are really conflicting with his necessity to be pissed off at the situation. His body and his brain are fighting each other. One is congratulating him on the successful wank while the other is filling him with contempt for his actions, telling him that he shouldn’t have risked it. That he knew this was going to fucking happen.

“Stop staring,” he tells her flatly.

Rey breaks eye contact with him as requested, suddenly finding something he can’t see near her feet incredibly interesting.

“Were you…?” the words go unspoken, yet even without the bond he understands what she’s referring to.

“Jacking off?” 

“Yes.”

“You know the answer to that, Rey.”

She’s quiet again, but then a flicker of confidence enters her eyes, and she’s right back to staring at him. This time it's with an air of confrontation. 

“Why?"

He looks at her like she's grown a second head, like the very idea of her statement is ridiculous. From where he sits resting against the wall, he straightens his posture, not allowing himself to lose the challenge that her gaze had unknowingly set for him. His eyes bore into her own, refusing to stand down.

He could just tell her he was horny, but that would be too easy. It's akin to someone admitting they want water because they are thirsty, yet not also supplying that they've been wandering the desert for days. It doesn't cover the underlying reason behind the need.

Kylo knows what she's waiting for him to say. He knows she already knows the answer to her question. Yet he can't figure out why she suddenly wants to hear it. Perhaps it's a test to judge his honestly? But that would be redundant, given she's got an inside look at his mind, his soul laid bare if she so wanted it.

She will know if he's lying. He knows she'll only push more if he does. He decides it's the afterglow, the post-cumming haze if you will, that causes him to just straight up tell her the truth. Maybe she'll regret wanting to hear it. Maybe she'll be so repelled that she loses all interest in dissecting the meaning of his actions further.

The word spills from his lips, "You." 

He can tell through the bond that she's heard him, and yet she doesn't react in the way he expected. There is no wrinkle of her nose in disgust. No careful plans of backing away and turning tail and running. She stands her ground, gears turning in her head. 

He can't tell what she's thinking and that fact alone is driving him up the wall.

"Did I…" she trails off, suddenly unsure if she's choosing the right words, "What did I do?"

He can't tell if she's asking because she wants to know how to prevent this sort of confrontation from happening in the future (not likely), or if she's actually this naive. She's getting good at not broadcasting her emotions as strongly. She’s a quick learner, he’ll give her that.

Kylo crosses his arms against his chest and scoffs, “You exist.”

He’s unwilling to give up what she already knows. That only moments before she appeared he had been thinking of the curves of her body and the tightness of her cunt.

She seems to take his answer in, and to some surprise to Kylo, she does not press the issue. It’s a small victory he relishes. Rey’s eyes were still locked onto him, intense and unrelenting. He’s able to grasp out and comprehend the faint edges of a few thoughts that were racing through her head. It’s becoming a little easier now, with his mind seemingly acclimating to hers being present. She’s thinking something regarding him. 

She’s been thinking about him, he realizes. Not nearly in the same manner that his uneventful hours have been spent thinking about her, but he can tell she’s been deliberating in her head whether or not to inquire with him for answers. It’s either that or wait him out and hope that her questions are answered on their own.

“Ask them,” Kylo commands, not particularly fond of the way her uncertainty is overflowing into him.

She crosses her arms to match him, slightly defensive. Probably unsettled and uncomfortable with the fact that some of her thoughts escaped over the bond. If she’s anything like him, she’s also paranoid about just how much is being shared.

“I don’t want to start anything,” she says. He finds her apprehension ridiculous. 

“Not following my instructions is a great way to start shit.”

She sighs, giving in, “Fine. But you can’t get pissed just because I’m asking questions.”

“I’m making no promises.”

“Where are you?”

_ Wonderful. _ By the way Rey frowns he can tell she’s able to catch his remark.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Yes,” his reply was sharp and with hints of irritation. He wasn’t used to repeating himself so much. Most lifeforms he interacted with wanted nothing more than to put as much distance between themselves and Kylo Ren as possible. Rey can read his mind, and yet she seems unfazed by the danger that radiates from his very being.

Perhaps sensing that his mood was growing sour, the girl asks a different question. “How do you not know?”

“I’m in a room without a door.”

“Surely you can leave the same way you entered?”

“I can’t.”

He is a man of few words.

“Elaborate.”

“I woke up here. One minute I was..” his voice trails off, trying to think of anything _ but _ the First Order attack on the Resistance headquarters. As it would turn out, in pushing the memory away from the forefront of his mind, he inadvertently shoves it in her direction. He couldn’t have done it better if he was trying. It is like it’s served it up to Rey on a silver platter, hers for the picking.

“You were fighting,” she speaks, eyes darting back and forth as if the memory is being replayed to her like some sort of holo in front of her eyes. It isn’t as clear or powerful as the memory he had shared with her of his father’s demise. But it is enough to get the point through,

“I was fighting. I got captured. Now I’m here.”

“Well, perhaps the answer lies in who you were fighting?”

“People that don’t like me.”

He doesn’t really mean to be so sharp with her, but it just happens. He’s never been good with words or people.

“Clearly.”

He groans in exhaustion, yielding to her questioning with increasingly vague answers. “Does it matter?”

“Only if you want to figure out where you are.”

“What’s a scavenger on a backwater planet going to know? You’ve never left. You have no idea what trees even look like.”

“Trees?” 

Her question only proves his point. “My point exactly.”

“I may not know much, but you’re stuck with me. You can’t do this without me.”

She is right. It is just like his situation with the food and water. He needs her once again, and he refuses to both accept and confront that fact.

“There’s two groups involved. The first one is the Resistance. Heard of them?”

Recognition fills Rey’s features, but it vanishes as suddenly as it appears.

“That sounds familiar. I don’t know where, but I feel like I’ve heard of them before. What are they resisting?”

“A group called the First Order.”

She lights up, and he freezes, “I’ve heard of them!”

“Yeah? What have you heard?”

“Bad things.”

“Sounds about right.”

She remains silent, deep in thought. Her mind is well guarded, impenetrable no matter how much he tries to prod into her headspace.

His stomach is growling “Got any food?”

She looks a bit upset, but nods reluctantly, withdrawing his half-eaten portion from the other day. He greedily accepts it, this time waiting for her to hand him the flask before eating. He isn’t going to make the same mistake twice, knowing the foul taste that accompanies his only source of nourishment.

“Did you have trouble getting this?” He isn’t sure why he asked. It is unlike him to care about the plight of others, so he chalks it up to being concerned about his own selfish needs.

Rey seems like she is going to answer, and her mouth opens momentarily before closing once more. Perhaps she senses that his reasons aren’t entirely out of the goodness of his heart. That everything he’s done comes with a hidden layer of deception. Though in this particular incidence he isn’t trying to hide it. 

Instead, she drops the issues and bites the inside of her cheek. It seems like she is debating on filling him in on what had transpired on her side of the bond while they had been apart.

Then her expression changes and a new thought seems to have crossed her mind, “Which side are you on?”

He wouldn’t have understood the question, the randomness of it, if they hadn’t been tethered together. He would have thought they had long passed over the topic of the battle. Instead, he knows exactly what she is asking.

Here it is. The question he’s been so careful to avoid, remaining neutral in his explanation of the clash between the First Order and the Resistance. It is some surprise to him that she doesn’t already know. Perhaps his thoughts are more well secured that he realized? Perhaps that detail had not been shared over the bond? 

She doesn’t need to know he is the bad guy in this story. 

“The Resistance.”


	7. Day 12.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> only summary I can properly give this chapter is "smut lmao"
> 
> Warning: Non-con themes in this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sry about the wait. hope you all had a great Halloween
> 
> very busy at work over the past month - that's my excuse and i'm sticking to it
> 
> currently in the process of writing 2 other reylo stories too. One is light-hearted and a bit goofy. Should be 1-3 chaps. The other is a idea of mine that i've been tossing around for some time - dark, maybe 8-10 chapters. Not anywhere near ready for that one.

He feels her, and it must be night because she's lying down inches away from him.

The bond is increasing the frequency at which it brings them together. Kylo can’t be certain of the time passed, but it doesn’t feel like it’s been too long since they last parted on less than amicable terms. 

Their conversation had devolved into a series of snarky, biting retorts, mainly due to the frustration that he was experiencing on his end. It was by some miracle that the bond had cut off before he had a chance to really give her a piece of his mind. 

Sleep has done him well to calm down. In fact, the feeling between them is downright tranquil, part of their connection seeming to hum in satisfaction from the lack of animosity and space between them. He feels almost at peace, as if the weight of the dark side isn’t bearing down on his shoulders.

In his mild form of bliss, he's lost control of his hand it seems. It wanders just above her skin before pausing along the outside of her thigh. He closes some space between them, suddenly unable to resist the contact. It’s something similar to a magnetic pull that drives him further, wanting more. His hand wanders higher with the intention of cupping the smooth skin on her ass, but Kylo finds some disappointment in the fact that it's covered by fabric. It’s a detail which he plans to rectify. 

With deft fingers he uses his uninjured hand to work his way under the rag that makes up her tunic, untucking it from the belt and exposing the prize he's resisted for too long. The temptation has been so consuming. He’s earned this, he tells himself. 

Her skin is just as soft as he remembers it looking. He soaks it all in through the pads and the palm of his hand, squeezing gently on the side of her hip, driving the hardness between his legs against the small of her back. It takes all the restraint in his body not to squeeze her against him in the process. Instead, his grip tightens and he closes his eyes to bask in the moment.

Having a taste now, Kylo's body wants more. Demands more. He pushes the worn fabric of the belt up, above her hips with a gentleness that he didn’t know he had in him. The intense way his heart beats in his chest now is comparable to running a long distance. He’s almost surprised that she doesn’t wake up from the way the rhythmic pumping of his blood seems to be pounding in his ears.

The seam of the top of her pants stretches around the swell of her hips. He can scarcely make out her outline in the dark, but based on the extra cloth that clings loosely to her skin, he determines the clothing to be a few sizes too large. It’s a small detail, but it’s one he takes in, enjoying the silence all he can before she was bound to stir from her slumber. He comes to the conclusion that he likes this quiet between them. Even if she’s asleep. He likes it far more than all the bitching and moaning they’ve been doing thus far.

All navigation at this point has been accomplished purely by touch alone. He's never felt anything so soft and so enticing. In fact, he's never wanted for anything with the way his hands crave to roam their way over every inch of Rey’s flesh. It's an activity that Kylo is enjoying immensely, and in his mind he delights as he makes plans to taste and discover every detail of this girl. He’ll memorize them, study them like it’s some sort of test he needs to pass.

He knows she's asleep, and he shouldn't be doing this. His mother didn't raise him this way - but then again, Leia didn't really raise him at all. Despite knowing it's wrong, Kylo's dick overrides any logic sent from his brain. It’s so robotic and automated that he’s not even sure he’s completely awake. He feels like he's in a dream where his hands have a mind of their own, and he’s just along for the ride.

He's all hormones as his fingers slip underneath the waistband of her pants, the over-sized garment providing ample room for his large hand to slide in. Kylo feels his breath hitch as he discovers a distinct lack of undergarments, the girl wearing nothing underneath. It’s a bit of a surprise to him, but a welcome one to be sure. It makes him wonder if she's gone without bindings on her breasts as well, the thought causing him to squeeze his eyes shut tightly as he resists every impulse to pull her trousers down and shove himself inside of her without so much as a second thought.

An entire globe of her firm ass fits perfectly in the seat of his palm, and he can't help but to dig in his fingers, to which her sleeping form emits an audible groan. She's driving him wild just by being here.

He can't help himself when his hand slip down to her thigh, finally giving into his impulses and pulling her against his hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He can feel his dick push against the crook of her ass cheeks, its girth filling and pushing against the space between them.

A few thousand thoughts rip through Kylo's mind, all of them involving the girl he's currently wrapped around. Rey fits so perfectly within his grasp, his body curved around hers.

He wants to engulf her, to overcome and dominate every inch of her body. He wants her to ride him. To push her down on his dick so that he fills her to the hilt. He wants to feel her grip him with her tight pussy around his cock, to wiggle and struggle against him as he holds her hips with his hands like vices. Above all, Kylo imagines ramming himself deeper inside her, ruining her for any other man. He wants her body to remember it feels, to feel incomplete when he's not there.

At this point he’s left debating on whether it's worth the risk to allow his hands to drift to the front of her pants. He wants like hell to see her face as she jolts awake with one of his long fingers sliding into her cunt. He wonders if he could fit two. If she'll be wet and waiting for him, her own body having responded involuntarily to the way his hips are grinding against her.

He's about to make a move when he feels her tense up, mind suddenly unclouding itself and flaring awake and alert. His grip becomes tighter in anticipation of her next move. He has little doubt that she’s going to separate herself from him as soon as she realizes what's happening, and Kylo isn't ready for the moment to end.

His assumption is right, and Rey does her damnedest to wiggle out of his grip. Her hips wiggle against his crotch, pushing into him and away as she tries to release herself. But Kylo’s chasing a different form of release. As she tries to push herself into a sitting position, the movement feels incredible. Her body brushes against the head of his cock. Kylo's head tilts back from the rush of pleasure, the only concern on his mind being to continue to build upon the mounting pressure. 

He moves his hand from out of her pants, sliding up until he finds a home at the curve of her hips, hands gripping bare skin like his life depends on it. He holds her in place, but it's becoming difficult to concentrate, as though all of his brain function currently resides at the junction between his thighs. 

Ignoring the pain in his wrapped hand, Kylo reaches around her shoulders, an action that’s made easier when she lifts her head up while attempting to sit up. He grabs hold of her far shoulder, caging her in his arms as he brings her even closer. He's practically clinging to her, riding the friction from her protests. 

He can feel her fear, but there's also something else. Something he didn't expect. It's pleasure, he realizes after a fog in his mind clears and he’s able to process anything other than his most primal instincts. Part of Kylo’s surprised that he even has the ability to separate hers from his own. 

She's turned on. Whether it's just her body performing on natural instinct or if it is artificial, he's unable to tell. It doesn’t matter.

Instead of dwelling on the details, Kylo smirks in triumph, leaning his head close into her ear. His hot breath is on her neck, and he's close enough to place his mouth on it if he so chooses. 

"Shh.. shh," he tries to calm her. "Let it happen," he commands into the junction of her neck, lips ghosting the flesh as they move with each word.

Her mouth remains closed as she continues to fight a losing battle. Kylo continues to buck his hips against her own, this time more forcefully.

"Don't lie to yourself. You want this."

She stills as she processes his words, and he can hear the sound of her heavy breathing. 

"I bet you're fucking tight," he tells her, enjoying every second of the shared glimpse into her subconscious. There’s something about the way her brain is attempting to rationalize the way that his words excite her. His smirk has yet to disappear from his face, and he can tell that she can feel the curl of his grin against the back of her neck. 

It’s like an overload of sensations. The pleasure he feels from his dick is like one layer, while another overlaps with purely her emotions. 

Kylo stops his primal style of grinding against her, opting instead to just hold himself rigid and flush against her. It's with the goal of giving her enough time to make out the outline of his cock near the base of her spine. He wants her to feel how hard he is. He wants to relish this shared connection between them, to take his sexual appetite to new heights, beyond anything he’s experienced before.

Kylo waits like this, observing the bond closely like it’s some sort of science experiment. He gets what he wants after only a brief moment, a fleeting realization tumbling out of her mind and into his. She's mentally comparing the length of his cock to the length of her body. She's calculating how deep it would go.

God it turns him on. At this point he’s just satisfied that they are finally on the same wavelength, thinking of the same thing, drawing the same conclusions. Except her reaction is coated in a survival instinct that tells her to fight, while his just wants to fuck her into submission.

It's at this moment of satisfaction that Rey is able to find weakness. Her limbs swing into action, taking the opportunity to yank herself free and away, rolling away from him before heaving herself up by her arms into a sitting position. 

She journeys backward, dragging herself by her haunches to create space between them. Kylo's left gripping the air, cock straining against his pants in protest. He's left suddenly feeling very cold without her body next to his. 

"Don't say for a second you didn't want that," he bites out fiercely.

"I," she stumbles with her words, "I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It’s a fucking lie and she knows it. It almost insults Kylo how much she’s trying to distance herself from the sensations he’s provided her up until this point. 

He can sense that she’s warring with herself internally. He’s initially unsure whether the feeling of sheer want is being produced purely by him, or if she’s sharing the wave of lust that’s overcome every inch of his body. His urgency to touch her skin once more is the most prominent feeling in his mind, and he has very little doubt that it is spilling over the bond. 

A look in her eyes, however dark it may be in his cell, tells him all he needs to know. She’s still thinking about the way he had pressed against her, the way his hands held her waist and his hot breath tickled her neck. The slightest sliver of desire escapes to his side of the bond. It’s artificial and most definitely not his own. Kylo’s pride swells with this realization and he decides to grab hold of it and not allow it to escape.

He makes to approach her, to be rid of this distance between them. 

"Don't deflect the conversation, Rey."

"I don't know what's going on," she tries to rationalize.

"You want this just as much as I do," he won't back down. Not when he was able to feel it. Not when he knows his words to be true.

She’s silent when he reaches his hand forward once more, a strong palm encasing her thigh in a grip that makes his knuckles go white. Her hand jumps to his own, small fingers not nearly long enough to encircle the entirety of his wrist. She breathes heavily, uncertainty and distrust ruining what could have been a brief moment of mutual contact.

“I’ve never..” her voice drifts off, but Kylo can easily pick up where her words trail off, following the confession by way of the bond. 

She’s never done this before. Never been touched. Never been loved.

“This isn’t love,” he tells her firmly. Love is something that Kylo Ren isn’t capable of. Ben Solo loved his parents. Ben Solo loved life. Kylo Ren only had room for his own desires, his own needs. 

And what he currently needs is to bury every inch of himself into Rey.

There’s uncertainty that she’s not voicing however. She wants him, he can feel as much in the way she shivers under the contact of his hand rubbing her thigh up and down, slowly creeping closer to the apex of her thighs. He’s trying his damndest to be gentle, to not scare her off. Reason and logic tells him it’s the only way he has a chance of getting laid, judging by the skittish nature of the female before him.

She’s inexperienced. Naive. All she knows about sex is second hand, and while her actions aren’t being controlled by her sex drive like some sort of puppet, she’s been holding onto the expectation that it was supposed to mean something. Chaste isn’t the word Rey would use to describe herself, but she has always held out some expectations that when she did finally want to give herself to someone, it would be meaningful. Instead, she’s just consumed by the feeling of her biological wiring responding to the situation at hand. To Kylo, it’s a frustrating revelation that he wants to make her forget about.

She’s never even been kissed. She doesn’t want him to take that from her.

“I don’t do that,” he tells her, and it might be the first honest thing he’s told her since they met. 

He’s always had a rule for himself, that kissing was a step too far. To Kylo, kissing was something that two people who cared about each other engaged in. 

The act in itself reminds him of the strained relationship between his parents, and how as he grew, the frequency of kisses shared between the pair sharply decreased. It culminated in an overheard argument, where Han Solo had remarked that it was like they were _just friends with baggage._

The moment has always stuck with him. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone, and he isn’t about to start with Rey, no matter how alluring her lips continued to be. They press into each other, as if she’s struggling to keep them closed. It’s a challenge he wants to take head on. He wants to see them part, for them to let out the gasps that he’s eliciting from her.

She lets his hand travel inward, to the innermost part of her thighs. He can feel her tense, a hitch in her breathing for every inch that his fingers move closer to their prize. It’s taking far too long for his liking, and without so much as a warning, he pushes his hand into the soft apex between her thighs and applies an aggressive amount of friction.

She’s wet. He can feel it on his fingers, seeping out from the folds of her cunt. Emboldened, Kylo uses all of his energy to re-position himself, body now leaning into her, a knee forcing open her thighs to obtain better access. She doesn’t resist him. Not like she did earlier.

This is progress, he thinks. She’s no longer resisting physically, which delights him. Instead, she’s erecting barriers around her mind - an action that catches Kylo by surprise, given her lack of knowledge and training in the Force. 

He knows he doesn’t have enough energy to push against the walls,those of which she likely has no idea that she’s even forming. He needs to take another route.

“No one’s ever touched you like this, have they?” he asks her, but he already knows the answer to his question. He wants to hear her say it. Needs to hear it from her lips. 

Deflowering virgins has never been high on Kylo’s list of kinks, but the idea of making the girl before him his in every way possible is a tempting thought.

Part of himself knows he isn’t thinking clearly. That he shouldn’t allow her to affect him like she is. But there’s a part of him that has suddenly come awake, a part that wants nothing more than to take ownership of every inch of her. To make this irritating girl belong to him.

It isn’t enough for him that they are connected mentally. It isn’t enough that he can decipher what she’s feeling and thinking, and that she has unfettered access into his mind. Nevermind that it’s in a way that makes Snoke’s prodding seem like a gentle caress. 

He wants to be her first. Her last. He wants to take every inch of freedom from her - not at all different from the way his own had been taken. Kylo’s greed is showing, he knows it. He doesn’t care. He wants to overwhelm her with new sensations, with the knowledge that he’ll have ruined her for any other man. 

“Please,” she chokes out, and he can tell she isn’t quite sure what she’s begging for. It doesn’t make a difference to Kylo. She’s begging all the same, and it’s a huge fucking turn on.

“Answer me, Rey,” he growls out.

“You know the answer already,” she grits out after a pause of silence, finally giving in.

The hand that’s still lingering on his wrist squeezes like a vice, pushing his hand more forcefully into her center, to explore the sensation of being touched. 

She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’s just trying anything and everything to alleviate the wave of lust that’s overtaken them both. It’s new and foreign - terrifying but also thrilling. She’s so torn between giving in, wanting him to touch her more, and the instinct to push him away. A desire to explore the unknown. 

The bond is like a current, pulling him under and drowning him in unimaginable ways. He obliges her, despite never having said the words in their entirety. A finger enters her, rushed and desperate, as though he’s afraid she’ll change her mind.

This is clearly a first for Rey, and in some ways it’s also uncharted territory for Kylo. 

He’s never felt so close to someone. He’s never felt the ambition to address the needs of any of his previous sexual partners. Not like this. Not like the way he can’t take his eyes off of her as she arches her back and grips his wrist like she’s holding on for dear life. 

Normally this kind of shit would be setting off alarm bells in his head. He’d be wary and skeptical with a need to confront such errant feelings flowing through him. Instead it’s like the bond is overriding his instincts and he’s urged to press onward. To enjoy this shared sensation between them.

It’s dull, but as he pumps his finger in and out of her, the pleasure he’s experiencing on her behalf grows. He adds another finger now, the girl’s tight cunt stretching around them.

The sensation grows clearer and clearer, like he’s wiping away condensation from a window in order to clearly expose what is hidden on the other side. All he knows at this moment is the need to be closer. He chases the feeling like his life depends on it.

_ It’s dangerous _ , the voice in the back of his head that he attributes to his conscience tells him. 

She makes noises, sounds that travel down his spine and straight into the head of his dick. The hand that is not pistoning in and out of her cunt travels upward, taking the moment to rest atop her tunic, around the curve of one of her small breasts. 

His eyes roam to her face, where she’s locked into the sensations of pleasure. Rey’s eyes are shut, as though she’s trying to imagine that she’s somewhere else, with someone else. Kylo deems this unacceptable. His grip on her breast tightens roughly for a brief second, causing her eyes to snap open and meet his own. 

They stay like that for who knows how long. Time’s become an unimportant concept to him since the beginning of his imprisonment.

His expression is unchanging as he stares into her soul. It’s much like her own. They say nothing, but nothing needs to be said. Words and concise thoughts seem like an impossible exchange at this moment. Instead, it’s like they are pouring themselves into each other with eyesight alone. The moment is electric.

By the time Kylo’s able to process it, his fingers become cold and Rey’s already gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be multiple chapters. If you like this work, let me know with a review or kudos and I'll look to post more of my works here.


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